


Rapture

by glitterbb



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mutual Pining, PINING!connor, Pining!Oliver, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterbb/pseuds/glitterbb
Summary: Oliver wants someone to help him forget, instead he finds someone he wants to remember.





	1. Prologue

He should have seen it coming. It had been too perfect. Too fast, too loving, too much like a fairytale, Oliver should have realised it would all come crashing down around him sooner or later. A year with Thomas had taught him many things. The fact he was more confident than he gave himself credit for, he was more attractive than he let himself believe and that he genuinely was capable of loving and being loved in return. That was until he’d found out the truth at least. 

He wasn’t the only one Thomas had been showering with love and affection and the knowledge of that had bought his confidence spiraling back to stage one. 

Six whole months he’d be seeing other people behind his back. One continuous affair he probably could have handled. They probably could have worked through it, at least Oliver liked to believe as such, but knowing that his boyfriend, the man he loved and trusted, had been hooking up repeatedly with random men made him feel slightly nauseous. 

He looked around the apartment, covered with remnants of their relationship. A shirt left in haste, a photo adorning the shelf, memories of happier times that all felt so hollow now. He picked up the frame, launching it across the room in a fit of anger. He didn’t want to be reminded of that now. Of how stupid he’d been.

It had been three weeks since the facade had crumbled. Since the all encompassing row that had ended it all. Every word and sneer was seared into his memory. The cross words, the tears, the realisation it was over. Oliver was struggling to come to terms with having the security blanket of a relationship ripped away from him so suddenly. 

Work had been unbearable. An endless stream of sympathy and advice of varying degrees of usefulness coming from all angles. The awkward silences as people attempted to politely avoid the subject, and the awkward nods as those less aware thundered on regardless.

‘ _You can do so much better than him_ ’

‘ _Show him what he’s missing_ ’

‘ _Rebound the pain away_ ’ 

None of it served as any comfort to Oliver. If he couldn’t keep Thomas’ interest what luck did he have elsewhere? He felt like a failure. Like no one could possibly love him again. He struggled to see how he’d ever be able to trust again either. 

He stared at the card in his hands, yet another contribution from a concerned work colleague. 

“Ring that number.” Dave from accounting had chuckled as he thrust the note in his hands. “You need to climb back in the saddle. She’ll sort you out with someone good. Trust me.” He’d winked suggestively, a kind but seedy smile cracking across his lips. Oliver had thrust it in his pocket quickly, but right now, the thought of no strings, meaningless sex felt far more tempting than it should do.

He rocked gently on the edge of the bed, contemplating his options. Maybe he should just log on to Humpr, surely something would come up. He held his phone in his hands, thumb hovering above the screen. Humpr came with risks. Risks of rejection, and Oliver just didn’t feel strong enough for all of that. 

His fingers trembled as he stabbed the number nervously into his phone, he needed this. For one night, he needed to feel wanted and right now this was his only option.

* * *

Oliver drummed his fingers nervously on the table, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. This all felt so much more seedy than he’d expected, but it felt too late to back out now. 

He wondered how he’d sunk this low. He’d had everything going for him. He’d been on top of the world. Friends he could trust, a job he loved, a career with opportunities wide open for him to step in to, and then Thomas had wandered into his life like a cherry on top. 

They’d been happy, caught up in a whirlwind, Oliver had thought he’d been the one. He’d felt safe with Thomas, on a high where nothing could bring him down, now he couldn’t feel any further from being that man. Now he was reduced to sitting in bars, waiting to meet a pimp.

Oliver had no real clue who he was looking for. He only knew the name, ‘Keating’. The voice on the phone had been gruff and male, but even Oliver wasn’t naive enough to think that would be the person he came face to face with. He sipped nervously from his glass of wine, waiting for the unknown figure to take up their place in front of the straight vodka he’d been instructed to buy. One thing was for sure this was a well oiled operation. 

“Mr. Hampton?” A woman slid into the chair opposite him, holding out a hand. And older woman, not a hair out of place, smartly dressed, she couldn’t have been further from what Oliver was expecting. She appeared so suddenly and was so immediately intimidating to the it made Oliver tremble. He took her hand and shook it nervously. “I’m Keating.” She mumbled, barely making eye contact. “Let me be clear on a few ground rules.” She picked up the glass, taking a swig. “ Number one. My guys practice safe sex, no bareback under any circumstances. Two, If you want any extras then sort it out between the two of you, but it’ll cost you. Three, any physical harm and you’ll regret it, and four.” She looked up, eyes stern and serious. “If they say No, they mean No. Understood?” 

Oliver nodded, beginning to wonder just what he’d gotten himself in to. The older woman’s mouth turned into a smile, leaning across the table.

“Good!” She brought the glass to her lips and downed the last of the contents. “So what exactly is it you’re looking for tonight?”

Oliver swallowed hard, the bluntness of the conversation taking him by surprise. He wasn’t sure what quite it was he’d been expecting. He was about to pay a stranger for sex after all, all reservations should be out of the window. 

“A guy…” He mumbled, that was all he’d really considered. “I’m not… I’m not fussy.” He shrugged, already feeling his cheeks burning. “Just someone who can make me forget the other shit in my life for one night.” 

The woman reached into her purse, pulling out a business card and sliding it across the table. She stood up, ready to make an exit just as quickly as she had arrived. 

“I have just the guy. Go to this address. He’ll sort you out for the night. $650, cash upfront.” She pulled her coat around herself tighter. “Have a nice night, Mr. Hampton.” With a final smile she was gone. Oliver sat, staring down at the business card in his hands. A name, a number and an address for an apartment not to far from where he was right now. He ran a thumb gently over the embossed text.

“ _Connor_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver lingered outside the tall apartment block, staring up at the half lit building with a nervous uncertainty. Movies had taught him that Prostitutes lived in dark, dank squats. Run down areas with no money, squalid, seedy conditions with an air of shame and desperation. This couldn’t be any further from that perception. A perfectly ‘normal’ apartment block just like any other that started to make him question if he had the wrong place. 

He followed the small path up to the front door and inspected the bank of buzzers mounted on the wall. His finger hovered, wondering if it was too late to back out now. Write the whole thing off as a mistake and pretend it never happened. 

But if he was honest with himself, he did want it. He wanted to forget. Forget the past, forget Thomas, forget himself. It had been too long, and right now he was prepared to do whatever it took to shake himself from his funk, whatever the cost. 

He stared down at the card in his hand and pressed the buzzer for Apartment 10, waiting with a shiver in the cold winter air. Within seconds a voice floated out of the speaker. 

“Hello?” 

“Uh… hey?” Oliver replied awkwardly, still not quite knowing how to handle all of this. “It’s Oliver?” He added, should he give his surname? Did he need to say why he was here? His anxiety was interrupted by the return of the disembodied voice. 

“Oh hey, third floor, come right up.” They cut themselves off with the buzz of the front door opening. 

Oliver pulled the door back, stepping inside the neat and tidy entrance hall. A bike propped against the wall, a buggy parked in the corner away from the staircase. None of it would have looked too out of place in his own apartment building. Oliver began the ascent up the stairs, his heart hammering inside his chest. One floor, two floors, he dragged his feet up the last set of stairs, taking a deep breath as he stepped onto the third landing. 

The door to Apartment 10 faced him, Oliver nervous about what might be waiting on the other side. He knew nothing of the person he was about to meet. What if he couldn’t perform? What if the guy was a jerk? A sudden wave of skepticism washed over him, drowning out his confidence.

The door pulled back, Oliver instinctively jumping as a face peered around it. A young face, dark hair swept back from his face, jaw covered in messy stubble, a crooked grin framed by the same. Oliver found himself drawn to the most captivating pair of hazel eyes he’d ever come into contact with.

“You must be Oliver?” The owner smiled kindly, pulling the door back. “I’ve been expecting you.” He chuckled, his voice low and smooth, carefully seductive, dangerous eyes. He was dressed simply. Plain t-shirt, jeans, nothing special yet perfectly effortless. 

He beckoned Oliver inside, closing the door behind the pair of them. He lead Oliver to the couch, a neat, dark leather sofa littered with brightly coloured throw pillows, signalling for him to take a seat.

“I’m Connor.” He grinned. “I take it Annalise laid out the ground rules?” Oliver nodded silently, rummaging in his pocket and producing a wad of notes. Connor gave a grateful nod as he accepted them, leafing through quickly before hiding the money away. He turned back to Oliver, his face soft and professional. “You don’t need to be nervous?” He offered, sliding effortlessly into the space beside Oliver. 

“That’s easy for you to say.” Oliver chuckled, gripping his knuckles. “You’ve done this before.” He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair. Connor smirked, shifting closer. He reached out, placing a gentle, comforting hand on Oliver’s knee. 

“Just relax.” He whispered. “I don’t bite… unless you’re into that kind of thing?” He chuckled, leaning in close. His hand moved up Oliver’s body, gently cupping the other man’s jaw, pulling him to face him. “We’ll take it slow?” He promised, their faces millimeters apart, he leant in slowly, pressing their lips together in a soft gentle kiss that sent a chill coursing up Oliver’s spine. “Tell me what you want, Oliver?” the younger man breathed, a devilish smile playing on his lips, fingers creeping further up Oliver’s thigh. 

“I don’t know…” Oliver choked out, his breath catching in his throat as the fingertips on his thigh coaxed the blood to his crotch. “I just… “ He swallowed hard. “Just make me feel good.” His voice low and needy. 

Connor’s eyes lit up and he grabbed for Oliver’s hand, pulling the older man to his feet, flicking his hair from his eyes.

“Now that is something I can definitely do.” He chuckled, leading him through a closed door to a bedroom. The bedroom was nothing fancy. A plain room, walls painted grey contrasting against the bright white ceiling. The double bed stood in the middle of the room, headboard pushed back against the wall, duvet pulled meticulously across the mattress, pillows arranged with painful precision. Nothing would have given away what the bed’s primary purpose was were it not for the bowl of condoms on the bedside table and the waiting bottle of lube. Connor meant business. 

He crowded himself against Oliver, backing the other man against the bed frame, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, eyes searching for consent, or at least a sign to stop. When he found none, his fingers made light work, popping each button with a certain neediness. 

Oliver took Connor’s lead, a spark igniting within him. He curled a hand around Connor’s neck, pulling their lips together, kissing him fervently. He needed this. He needed a release and Connor was as good as any. His fears dissipated and everything suddenly fell into place. He could do this. This felt good. Connor felt good.

“You have a preference?” Connor groaned, pushing Oliver back onto the mattress, clambering atop him immediately, working intently on his belt buckle.

“Just fuck me.” Oliver sighed, relaxing against the bed, allowing the other man to take charge, willing to submit to whatever came naturally. 

* * *

Oliver scrunched a hand in his damp hair as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d needed that, it had been a long time since he’d felt the familiar intense rush of euphoria coursing through his veins. Connor’s chest rose and fell beside him slowly, the other man letting out a yawn. He stood up, pulling a gown from a pile on a nearby chair. He wrapped it around himself, a ridiculous, garish silk number that most people would only wear as a dare. 

“I’ll leave you to sort yourself out?” Connor smiled, making towards the door. “You can use the bathroom if you need it?” He nodded towards an ajar door leading to an en suite.

“Wait.” Oliver croaked, pulling himself up, the sheets pooling in his lap. “Can we… talk or something?” He mumbled, the sudden change of tone jarring. He’d always found one night stands kind of awkward, usually something he only indulged in when needs must. Connor snickered with a shake of the head. 

“I do sex, not therapy.” He shrugged bluntly, grabbing for a fresh pair of boxer shorts and pulling them on. “If you want to talk, I can give you the number of a great shrink.” He chuckled sardonically. Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“I pay you $650 and you can’t even manage pillow talk.” He tutted, although taken aback by his own sudden burst of confidence. “I thought your boss told me you were the best?” Connor stopped in the doorway, turning back slowly. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’ve had better?” He smirked, his confident grin looking less cocky by the second, unable to tell if the other man was joking or not. Oliver pouted, a playful glint to his eye.

“I thought we weren’t talking?” He teased, grabbing his own boxers from a pile on the floor, pulling them on as he climbed to his feet. There was something easy and natural about their back and forth, although Oliver wasn’t sure if it was all for show. Just a figment of his imagination fueled by what had proceeded it. 

A smile split Connor’s lips as he lingered curiously in the door frame.

“Whatever.” He chuckled. “We both know you enjoyed it.” He paused. “No one is that good at faking it.” He winked. He turned to walk away again, Oliver seeing an opportunity. 

“What if I did want to see you again?” He stuttered slightly, taken aback by his own forwardness. “I mean, how do I go about that?” A triumphant grin spread across Connor’s face as he folded his arms, leaning against the door frame. 

“My number is on the card Annalise gave you?” He explained. “Just give me a call or a text and we’ll sort something out?” 

“You mean I don’t have to go through your boss again?” Oliver asked, shuddering at the thought of yet another meeting with the intimidating woman from earlier. Connor shook his head slowly. 

“Annalise just vets new clients.” He explained. “So unless you’re really not satisfied and want her to find you someone different, we can cut out the middle man?” He smiled, letting the suggesting hang in the air. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” He whispered with a grin, turning and finally leaving Oliver to himself.

Oliver sat for a second, leaning back against the headboard, still trying to come to terms with what he’d done. Still trying to wrap his head around what exactly came next. He was no idiot. He knew not to expect too much. This was sex, pure and simple. A business transaction with no strings or consequences or expectations of anything more. It had served its purpose, but none of that stopped Oliver from feeling completely empty inside. 

He needed more. More than skin on skin. Much more than a quick fuck could provide him with. He longed to actually feel something. A connection, emotions… He longed to feel wanted in return, but right now, he lacked the confidence to initiate any kind of contact that might lead to that becoming the case. He pulled himself up, traipsing into the small bathroom, staring blankly in the mirror, his own face staring back at him. He leant on the sink, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t the answer, but for now, this was his only option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was a bit rushed :/ but I'm hoping the next chapter will start to develop things a bit more to make up for it.... sorry :(


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to update, but Christmas happened, and real life, and then I needed to try and rework where exactly I was going to take the story. Thank you SO much for all the lovely comments people have been leaving though, it means a lot :) Enjoy!

“So… tell me his name?”

Oliver’s head shot up from the computer screen, Laurel smiling back at him with a sweet yet probing look.

“I don’t know what you mean?” Oliver choked, looking back at his screen, trying to brush off the impending inquisition. He rolled his eyes as his work colleague dropped down heavily in the chair beside him. Clearly he wasn’t about to escape easily.

“Oh come on!” She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she rolled the chair closer. “You’re always on your phone, you’re rushing out the door and you just…” She paused, sizing Oliver up. “You look like you’ve been getting laid?” She grinned, eyes staring expectantly for gossip.

Oliver looked back to his computer screen, trying desperately to focus on something important instead. Had it really been that obvious?

“It’s no one…” He mumbled with a curt shake of the head, trying to hide the smug grin threatening to break free.

Connor had become a hobby. An expensive hobby, but with every meeting, Oliver felt more and more at ease in the other man’s company. He could relax, every rendezvous coming slightly more naturally than the one previous. Oliver finally gaining the confidence to take what he wanted, to take charge.

Oliver wasn’t stupid, he knew that his meetings with Connor weren’t genuine. It wasn’t a relationship. There were no feelings or emotions, it was almost like a role play. A charade, both men pretending this wasn’t just a seedy business transaction. 

Connor was a willing accomplice, encouraging Oliver at every step of the way, silently enjoying the evolution of this stranger from timid first timer to reliable client.

Laurel stared at Oliver, her grin growing ever wider.

“It’s more than no one.” She chuckled, punching Oliver lightly on the arm. “Come on! Who is he?” She teased. “Does he work here?” She peered around the office

“It’s no one!” Oliver shook his head. “I promise you…” He swallowed. “I’m just… finally over Thomas.” He smiled, a suggestive wink added in that didn’t go missed by Laurel. She giggled.

“Oooo, so you’re playing the field?!” She grinned leaning in closer.

“Something like that.” Oliver muttered. “I’m just happy at the moment, that’s all you need to know.” He sighed, tapping on his keyboard. Laurel was sweet, the most level headed of his work colleagues that was for sure, but he still didn’t really fancy the idea of entering into the details of his current arrangement with her just yet. This was for him, a pure exercise in confidence building that was noone’s business but his own.

“Well I’m happy for you?” She shrugged her shoulders. “You deserve to have some fun, Ollie.” She paused. “You should come out with us tonight!” Laurel suggested, swinging in the chair, eyes lighting up at her own suggestion. “A few of us are going out in town for a few drinks?”

“I don’t know…” Oliver groaned softly. Work nights out were always more stress than they were worth. It had been on a work outing that he’d met Thomas and his life had changed so dramatically. He wasn’t sure he was really prepared for the inevitable matchmaking that would be going on. 

“Come onnn!” Laurel whined, grabbing onto his arm. “Just one drink.” She reasoned. “You never know who you might meet!” She winked. “There’s probably some guy out there just waiting to make you forget about Thomas for good!” She chuckled. Oliver looked up at her with a roll of the eyes. She started early, he’d give her that.

He mulled over his options. Connor wasn’t working tonight, he’d finished most of his work and all he really had to look forward to was the bottle of wine he’d put in the fridge that morning and some kind of take out. Not exactly the most enchanting evening. He swallowed hard with a resigned shake of the head. 

“Fine.” He muttered. “One drink.” His words cut off as the other woman threw her arms excitedly around Oliver’s neck. 

“We’re meeting at 9, don’t be late!” She chuckled, sauntering back over to her own desk.

* * *

Oliver tugged awkwardly at the sleeves of his jacket, still not sure why exactly he’d agreed to this, or who exactly he was trying to impress. There was still time to escape he decided as he crossed the street to the bar they’d agreed to meet in. There was definitely a bottle of wine at home with his name on it, and plenty of box sets he was more than happy to catch up with. 

Who cared about being alone really? Sometimes it had its benefits. No one to answer to, or worry about. No hassle or stress, maybe being single wasn’t quite so bad after all. He half considered turning around right there and then, his hand on the door to the bar. He could grab a take away on the way home and still manage to make a night of it.

Laurel would never let him hear the end of it he decided, pushing the door open, and besides, the chances he was likely to pull at all were slim to none. This was just a drink, with friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He peered round the crowded room, eyes fixing on a table of people he recognised, slowly making his way over. 

“Ollie!” Laurel grinned excitedly, throwing her arms around him and embracing him warmly. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!” She smiled, Oliver nodding politely, choosing not to divulge how close to the truth she was. “Let me get you a drink!” She beamed, pushing past Oliver in the direction of the bar, not even waiting for an order from him.

It had been a long time since Oliver had been out for drinks, and the congregated groups of people chatting and laughing only served to make Oliver feel like the oldest guy in the room. When did everyone else get so young? 

He sighed, plastering a smile across his face as he recognised a few other people from work, greeting each of them warmly with a handshake and a quick hug, at least giving the impression he was happy to be here. He recognised faces, but names were blurry. There was the blonde girl from Human Resources, the very cute but very straight guy from reception and a smattering of interns, all of whom looked like they were out way past their bedtimes, let alone old enough to get served at a bar.

Laurel pushed her way back through the group, presenting Oliver with a rum and coke with a triumphant grin. 

“There is a guy at the bar and he’s 100% checking you out!” She whispered enthusiastically, grabbing Oliver’s arm and pulling him close. “Come on Ollie, he’s hot!” She beamed, attempting to pull the older man to view the person in question. 

“Laurel.” He groaned with a roll of the eyes, digging his feet in and resisting. This was what he’d been fearing, he didn’t want to become a sideshow. He was tired of the constant quest to hook him up with people. He just wanted to relax. “Can’t I just drink my drink?” He whined, pouting, taking a tentative sip. 

“Of course you can?” Laurel mumbled, smiling sweetly and somewhat falsely. “But you want to forget Thomas and I’m certain this guy could be just what you’re looking for!” She chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he’d make you forget how to walk straight too if you let him?” She winked, lowering her voice suggestively.

“Oh god.” Oliver groaned, shaking his head. 

“Just let me show you!” The other woman smirked, tossing her dark hair behind her shoulder, wrapping a hand around Oliver’s wrist. “If you’re not interested then we can forget about it?” She insisted, pulling Oliver closer to the bar. She pointed across the room to a group huddled in the opposite corner. “The guy has his back to us.” She hissed. “Dark hair, leather jacket.” She paused. “He was checking you out the whole time I was at the bar, I promise.” 

Oliver frowned, the mystery guy looked familiar somehow, like he should know who he was, but for some reason he was struggling to bring up a name. Then the guy turned and everything fell in to place. Connor.

“Oh fuck.” Oliver groaned. Why did this have to happen to him?

“I know, right?” Laurel grinned enthusiastically. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” She insisted, misunderstanding Oliver’s reaction. “You should go and say hello.” She insisted, pushing gently on his back. 

“No!” Oliver muttered with a sigh, wishing the floor would open and swallow him up. “Let’s just… Give it some time?” He shrugged, escorting Laurel back to their table.

* * *

Oliver leant on the bar desperately in need of another drink, if only to get through another round of incessant questioning from his work mates. He could go home, god knows he’d wanted to, but if truth be told he was kind of enjoying himself. Getting out of the house and actually doing something made a change. Sometimes, socialising wasn’t all bad, maybe it was even something he could get used to. 

He drummed his fingers on the bartop, waiting patiently for the barman to finish serving the person next to him.

“Of all the bars in all of Philly, you have to walk into my one?” A voice appeared over his shoulder. Oliver spun around, Connor smiling back at him, taking the space beside him at the bar, smiling kindly. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalking me, Oliver.” He teased, leaning casually against the bar. His jacket sat impressively on his frame, his t-shirt pulling tightly across his torso. So casual yet somehow so alluring. His deep hazel eyes sparkled with a mixture of fun and mischief.

“I didn’t…” Oliver started defensively, holding up his hands. Connor grinned with a shake of his head, rummaging in his back pocket and producing a wad of notes.

“I’ll get this.” He offered, thumbing through the pile of bills, not waiting to hear Oliver’s response to his first remark. 

“No!” Oliver insisted, his heart pounding in his chest. “If anything it should be me buying you a drink.” He smiled, rummaging in his pocket for more cash. 

“To be fair, you technically are.” Connor chuckled, holding up a twenty dollar bill, a teasing glint in his eye. “What are you having?” He asked as the barman finally began to approach them.

“I’ll have a Makers Manhattan.” Oliver requested, nodding gratefully at Connor as he ordered. The other man nodded. 

“Make that two.” He ordered, handing the bill over to the barman with a smile. Connor’s smile was dangerous, Oliver was pretty sure he had the ability to turn any man to putty in his hands with that one look alone. “You should have come and said Hello.” Connor smirked, leaning heavily on the bar, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. 

Oliver glanced back to Connor’s group across the room, all young and carefree, laughter erupting around the table. 

“I uh…. didn’t want to make things awkward?” Oliver shrugged, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “I mean, it’s your night off and I didn’t know…” He tailed off, not quite knowing how to phrase himself. “I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position?” He mumbled quickly. Connor nodded with a confident smile.

“They know what I do?” He confessed with a shrug. “It’s not a secret.”

“Really?” Oliver spluttered, certain his surprise was evident across his face. “I just thought….” He tailed off. He was screwing this up. A smile played on Connor’s lips. 

“You thought I’d be ashamed?” He offered, finishing Oliver’s sentence for him before adding a quick shake of the head. “I gave up worrying what people think about me a long time ago.” He grinned triumphantly. “Besides, I work hard, doing something I enjoy and get paid handsomely. What’s to be ashamed of?” He shrugged, holding his arms out wide with confident pride. 

Oliver’s head swam with questions, wishing in that moment he could be just as secure in his decisions as the other man clearly was. Connor was unapologetic and Oliver found himself instantly in awe of his confidence.

“So, what about you?” Connor smiled kindly. “What brings you out tonight?” He questioned, sliding himself onto a spare bar stool, indicating to Oliver’s group, most of whom were pretending not to be watching the whole interaction from afar.

“Oh.” Oliver swallowed. “My workmates, they’re insisting on finding me a new man.” He chuckled. “They don’t take no for an answer.” He swallowed. “I find it easier to just play along.” He peered urgently down the bar, not sure where exactly the barman had got to. Surely it didn’t take this long to make two drinks. 

“A new man?” Connor purred, “What happened to the old man?” He cocked his eyebrow inquisitively. His interest seemed completely genuine, no hint of small talk or filling for time. This was the first time they’d had anything resembling a real conversation. Up until their interactions were on a purely professional basis but now, Connor actually looked like he cared. 

“He cheated on me.” Oliver croaked, balling his hand into a fist. “That old cliche.” He looked up, Connor’s eyes urging him to continue. “I liked him, and he liked young blonde interns.” He explained, the image of coming home to find his ex getting intimately acquainted with some pretty twenty-something still ingrained in his memory. 

Finally the barman returned, sliding two glasses across the bar. Oliver took his, swigging from it deeply, anything to relax himself and relieve the anxious tension that was building inside of him. Connor licked his lips slowly. 

“Well he sounds like a jackass.” He smirked. “You’re definitely better off without people like that.” He chuckled. “Although in some ways I guess you’re lucky?” He shrugged quickly. Oliver’s eyebrows knitted together.

“How exactly?” He snickered. Connor leant in close. 

“Well, it meant you got to meet me.” He winked. His voice low and raspy. His eyes flicked up, peering over Oliver’s shoulder. “Your friends are still watching us.” He whispered.

“Ignore them.” Oliver groaned, his heart dropping slightly. Could he not get one moments peace? He took another sip of his drink.

“Or we could give them a show?” Connor purred softly, his face still unnervingly close, a mischievous grin cracking across his lips. 

Oliver had no time to think, Connor swooping in, lips catching Oliver’s in a soft, gentle kiss. Chaste yet breathtaking. Nothing new, yet entirely different from anything they’d shared before. Connor pulled away, a satisfied grin on his face. Oliver didn’t even dare turn to look at his work colleagues. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of Connor that lingered.

“C’mere.” Connor grinned, grabbing Oliver’s wrist. He tugged the older man close and pushed his sleeve up.

“What are you doing?!” Oliver croaked, confused as Connor leant over the bar, grabbing a pen. He placed the cap between his teeth, tugging the cap off and slowly scrawling across the older man’s skin. 

“Giving you my number.” Connor muttered, concentrating on the task in hand. 

“I have your number?” Oliver giggled, a shiver running up his spine as the cold ink left its mark. 

“But they don’t know that, do they?” Connor whispered, his eyes lighting up as he replaced the cap and returned the pen behind the bar. “See you later, Oliver.” He smiled sweetly, picking up his drink and sauntering casually back to his group of friends, leaving Oliver staring in his wake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for all the lovely comments. I feel terrible for not replying to them all but I'd just be repeating myself each time ;)
> 
> Seeing as we're not getting the episode we were due tonight, have a new chapter instead xoxo

Oliver stared at the remnants of the scrawled number on his arm, his mind swimming with questions.

Connor was only ever meant to be sex, and yet with every extra moment spent in his company, Oliver found himself becoming more deeply enamoured with the other man. He was smart and funny, someone Oliver would love to get to know better if the circumstances were different. 

But they weren’t, and Oliver had to keep reminding himself of that. 

Their last meeting at the bar had left Oliver questioning though. Confused and unsure about just where Connor stood, and just what his intentions were. He’d enjoyed being friendly, finally feeling like he could relax outside of the confines of a business transaction, and yet it had been Connor himself who’d taken things further. 

“I told you he likes you!” Laurel had screeched excitedly a few nights previous as Oliver had returned in a daze, and he was really struggling with not getting carried away with that idea. The kiss lingered on his lips, the sharp taste of alcohol mixed with the ashy tang of cigarettes. So much more real and genuine than the usual taste of mouthwash and chewing gum that Connor’s kisses brought. 

He wished there was a way. A way to break Connor’s steely surface. Find out just what exactly the other man was hiding underneath. To find out if he was imagining things. He needed an answer, because the more time he was spending with Connor, the more he was allowing himself to get carried away by the possibility, and he wasn’t sure he could face the rejection. Let alone the embarrassment.

He needed a plan. A reason to see Connor that didn’t bring with it the promise of sex. A chance to meet on a level playing field for once. He glanced around the room, a smile forming on his face. Perhaps he could make this work after all.

* * *

Oliver rapped his knuckles on the door, suddenly questioning his decision to just turn up. What if it was a bad time? Or Connor was with someone. Oliver was all too aware of that possibility, but the idea of actually seeing him in full flow with someone else sent a darkly possessive, jealous flash through him.

The door pulled back quickly and suddenly Connor was there, face pulled into a frown. He looked different somehow. Less… put together. Relaxed. His hair fell messily in front of his eyes. Sweatpants hung low on his hips and a tight black tee pulled across his chest, the curve of his arms peeking out from below a sleeve. Oliver swallowed hard. There was something charmingly natural about his whole get up. The real Connor.

“Hey…” The other man drawled unsurely. “Do we…” He tailed off, scrabbling in his pocket, presumably for his phone or something. 

“I’m not here for an appointment.” Oliver reassured him quickly with a shake of his head. “I actually think I dropped something here the other night.” He lied, hoping for once his face wouldn’t give him away. He was a terrible liar and he knew it. “Sorry, I should have called. I can come back if it’s a bad time?” He offered quickly. Connor shook his head, stepping back from the doorway. 

“Come in.” He mumbled, holding the door back casually, nodding into the apartment. Oliver stepped inside, slightly shocked by the sight in front of him. Connor’s apartment was no longer the clean and tidy show home he was used to seeing, instead laundry was strewn across the couch. Dirty plates on the coffee table and a pile of washing up in the sink, clearly not expecting company. “What are we looking for?” Connor asked, padding in to the room behind, scratching roughly at his head, his top lifting slightly to reveal a line of stomach as he reached up. 

“A locket.” Oliver sighed, peering around the room, cautious not to move too much without Connor’s say so first. “Small, silver. It was in my coat pocket.” He explained. Connor moved around him, picking up throw cushions and throwing them aside haphazardly, dangerously, paying no attention as Oliver pulled the silver chain from his pocket and dropped it on the floor, kicking it quickly out of sight. 

“Are you sure it’s here?” Connor frowned, determination etched across his features as Oliver feigned looking on the floor, moving away from where he knew it to be. “I haven’t seen anything?” He muttered. “You haven’t been here for about a week?”

“I know.” Oliver sighed, “but it was my Grandma’s and I know I had it when I was here?” He shrugged. Connor stopped, straightening up, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“You bought your Grandma’s locket with you to your escort?” He chuckled with a frown. “I didn’t realise I meant that much to you.” He teased. Oliver grabbed a nearby cushion, launching it playfully in Connor’s direction. 

“I take it with me everywhere, Can we just… look for it?” Oliver smiled, moving a pile of clothes from the arm of the sofa. He watched as Connor bent down, definitely not admiring the curve of his ass.

“Is this it?” The other man asked, straightening up again, holding the chain off his fingers. Oliver grinned. 

“Yes!” He beamed, bounding forwards and taking it, feigning relief. “Thank you so much!” He grinned, throwing an arm around Connor’s neck and pulling him into a grateful hug. It felt fitting. His Grandma had always been good at helping him out of a tight spot and she’d struck yet again. Connor’s arm cautiously snaked around Oliver’s back, returning the embrace in an awkward manner. Oliver pulled back, biting his lip. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “You’re probably busy, I should go…” He garbled, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, pushing his hands into his pockets as he made towards the door. 

“Actually…” Connor stood, rooted to the spot, his voice hoarse. “I have time?” He mumbled, almost shyly. “I can make coffee, if you want?” He paused. “If you don’t have somewhere you need to be?”

Oliver’s lips pulled into a smile. 

“Coffee sounds good?” He nodded gratefully, lingering near the kitchenette as Connor set himself into action, pulling mugs from cupboards before fiddling with a fancy looking coffee machine on the counter-top. Oliver had looked at buying one for himself, well for him and Thomas but then… well life had had other ideas. 

“My mum bought me this for Christmas.” Connor muttered, fiddling around with pods in a stand, looking for the ones he needed. “I still have no idea what I’m doing with it” He hissed, jabbing at buttons wildly. Oliver moved closer, placing a mug in and gently pressing the start button, the machine whirring in to life. 

“You’re lucky.” Oliver chuckled. “My mum just buys me socks every Christmas. At least yours is in touch.” Connor giggled, as the machine slowly wound down. He took the mug, handing it to Oliver before setting up the next mug. 

“Yeah, my mum’s good.” He mumbled bashfully, lips curving into a smile. “We’re close.”

“You’re a mummy’s boy? That’s so sweet!” Oliver grinned, amazed, leaning back against the counter. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the idea that Connor was close with his family hadn’t really entered his mind. Yet another preconception shattered. “What is she like?” He smiled, Connor’s features lighting up at the thought of his mother. 

“She raised me and my sister by herself.” He shrugged, watching as the machine finished preparing his own coffee, spooning sugar into his mug and stirring. “She’s always been there when I needed her. She’s just a complete badass.” He smirked. 

“Does she know about this?” He asked softly. Connor nodded slowly.

“Hardest conversation of my life.” He sighed. “She wasn’t exactly happy.” He explained, “I still remember her face, thinking she was going to cry any moment. Kept asking me why and saying it’s not what she had in mind for me growing up, but she’s grown to accept it.” He moved across the room taking a long gulp from his coffee, placing the mug down on the coffee table. He rummaged in the pockets of a jacket strewn over the back of the couch, producing a packet of cigarettes. “She knows once I’ve made my mind up, it’s hard to change it.” He paused. “It won’t be forever anyway.” 

Connor cradled a cigarette between his lips, feebly offering the packet in Oliver’s direction. The older man declined with a quick shake of the head, taking a sip from his coffee mug. He watched as Connor bowed his head, fiddling with a lighter, leaning back and exhaling when he finally succeeded in lighting the rolled paper.

“Why do you do it?” Oliver finally asked, studying the other man’s face for any hint of a reaction. Any glint of anger or suggestion that he’d gone too far. Instead Connor smiled, taking a leisurely drag on his cigarette. 

“What? Smoke?” He chuckled. “I dunno, just a stupid habit I picked up in High School. Trying to fit in with the cool kids, I guess?” Classic diversion.

“No!” Oliver sighed. “You know what I meant.” He added with a tut, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Why do you do this?” He indicated wildly to the apartment as if it was somehow representative of Connor’s work. “People don’t generally choose this kind of lifestyle unless they have to.” Connor’s smirk pulled wider across his face. He sat forwards in his chair.

“I smoked pot in college.” He mumbled. “Still do occasionally, if I’m having a really bad day. I popped a pill on my 21st birthday and it made me feel so shitty that I’ve never done it again since.” His eyes were fierce and defiant. “I took coke with a guy I hooked up with once, and I hated every second.” He paused. “So no, I’m not doing this because I’m some needy drug addict, if that’s what you’re asking?” He explained confidently, standing up, moving towards the window. “I do this because I want to?” He shrugged. “I enjoy sex.” He whispered, like it was a dirty thought, something that shouldn’t be spoken out loud. “Doesn’t everyone want to get paid to do what they love?” 

“Of course.” Oliver relaxed into his seat. “But life doesn’t always work like that.”

“Guess I just got lucky then?” He shrugged with a smirk, flicking ash outside the window. Oliver watched him, carefree, relaxed, defenses down. 

“You must want more though, sometimes?” He questioned, interest piqued.

“More?” Connor frowned, blowing smoke from his mouth, a confused frown wrinkling his forehead. Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“You must want a connection?” He tried to explain. “A bond? Companionship?” He sighed as Connor’s face remained a confused frown, as if this was a concept he’d never before considered, nor heard of. “You must get lonely sometimes?” Connor’s face turned contemplative, mulling over the question, seriously for once. 

“I have my friends to chat with.” He smiled thoughtfully. “It’s not like I’m ever really alone. Anyway, sometimes it’s nice to be alone”

“Sex is different to relationships though.” Oliver shrugged. “You get to know a person. Having someone to come home to every day, Someone to share things with,” He licked his lips. “Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to come home to.” 

“Relationships are trouble.” Connor tutted. “Stress and arguments and they always end in misery.” He paused, flicking the stub of his cigarette out of the window and taking a gulp of cold coffee. “I mean you should know that better than anyone.”

A silence fell between the two of them, Connor stopping stone still, realising what he’d just said. His face fell, a mix of embarrassment and regret.

“Shit… I didn’t mean…”

Oliver held up his hands. 

“It’s fine.” He shrugged. “You’re right I guess.” Not that it didn’t hurt but maybe there was some truth to it. Maybe he was being too idealistic. Maybe this wasn’t what he thought it was. Maybe it really had all been in his head. Wishful thinking, carried away yet again. He stood up. “Sorry… I should….” He indicated silently to the door. 

“No, Oliver, wait.” Connor sighed, jumping up after him, a firm hand gripping his arm, turning him around forcefully. “I should be the one apologising.” He whispered. “I just… haven’t done this for a while.” 

“What? Talk to people?” Oliver chuckled with a teasing tone, trying to ease the tension. The other man smiled weakly, adding in a shake of the head. 

“No!” Connor clawed at his hair, his face contorted in anguish. He stared at Oliver silently, as if summing him up. “Why did you come here, Oliver?” He asked with a sigh, a smirk pulling at the side of his lips. 

“I don’t… Oliver knitted his eyebrows together, confused by the line of questioning. 

“I had my apartment cleaned yesterday.” Connor started, his smirk growing wider. “They moved all the sofas out so I know that locket wasn’t there then.” He paused. “Which means it has to have arrived afterwards.” He studied Oliver’s face, his eyes sparkling as the realisation seemed to dawn. Oliver nibbled his bottom lip.

“Shit…” Oliver hissed, feeling his cheeks burn. Why did he seem to have the worst luck. “I can explain…” He whispered, his voice catching in his throat. Connor moved closer slowly, something else flickering in his eyes. Something Oliver couldn’t quite place.

“If you wanted to come over, you just had to ask.” Connor smiled, his voice low and raspy. He licked his lips slowly. “I gave you my number for a reason.”

Oliver swallowed, trying quickly to decipher if this was real or still some part of a game. Payback for visiting uninvited perhaps. Connor moved closer still, breath warm on Oliver’s cheek as his lips pulled into a devilish grin.

“What reason was that?” Oliver’s voice trembled, Connor merely rolling his eyes in response. He wrapped a hand around Oliver’s wrist, pulling him back towards the couch, guiding him to sit back down.

“Look, I don’t date clients.” He muttered almost apologetically, “But I really like you.” He admitted shyly. “You’re smart and cute and kind and to be honest I don’t get many clients like that.” Oliver felt a twang of disappointment. Maybe he had misjudged the situation. Maybe he’d let himself get his hopes up too much. “I’d like to get to know you better.” Connor shrugged nervously.

“You don’t have to humour me.” Oliver offered, rather the other man was honest than taking pity. Connor smiled kindly with a shake of the head.

“I’m not!” He insisted. “I’m serious!” He dropped down next to Oliver with a soft thud.”I reckon we could be good friends?” He suggested with a smile, holding his hand out. Oliver glanced down at it, taking it and shaking, internalising a sigh. 

“Friends.” He mumbled reluctantly.


	5. Chapter 5

Oliver’s fingers hovered over the keyboard on his phone screen, reading and re-reading the last message. 

_We’re waiting, where are you?_

It was too late to back out, but he could already sense the potential awkwardness the night was likely to bring, but Connor was insistent, and deep down, Oliver didn’t want to offend him. 

**_On my way_**

Oliver text back quickly, pushing his phone into his pocket as he climbed into the cab, giving the driver directions to town.

It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t want to be friends, but he knew his desires ran further than that, and knowing he’d have to permanently keep a lid on any feelings was already starting to feel like too much of a chore. 

Connor’s enthusiasm was kind of infectious, not to mention utterly endearing, and Oliver felt bad about even considering rejecting the other man’s suggestion. It wasn’t like he was really in the position to be turning down friendship offers from anyone. 

They’d gone for coffee and it had been fun, Oliver relishing in the chance to learn more about Connor, to finally crack through the outside layer just a tiny bit, and he’d been shocked by just how much Connor was willing to reveal.

“I wanted to be a lawyer.” He drawled with a confident smirk, rocking back in the chair, eyes undeniably tracking the ass of a passing barista, an unmistakable lick of the lips.

“What changed?” Oliver chuckled, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through him. Connor grinned at him, picking up stray sugar packet and twiddling it between his fingers.

“I couldn’t handle the immorality anymore.” He sighed. “Defending terrible people with blood on their hands... none of it felt right.” He paused. “Turns out I do have a limit.” His eyes flicked to Oliver’s. “I know, I was shocked too.” He joked, a smile lighting up his face as he giggled.

Oliver loved when he smiled. The dimples in his cheeks just visible beneath the facial scruff. He loved his self deprecating humour. Jesus he loved Connor, and this was going to be so much harder than he’d feared.

“So tell me about your job?” Connor swerved the conversation effortlessly back around to Oliver. In fact Connor had always made an effort to ask about Oliver. Ask about his job, his family, his likes and dislikes, and for once in his life, Oliver actually believed that Connor was genuinely interested. He believed that Connor wanted to get to know him better. 

When Connor had suggested drinks with his friends, Oliver hadn’t immediately been keen. He wanted to get to know Connor, and the thought of spending time with other people made him fearful of awkward silences and feeling like an outsider, but Connor was trying to include him and for that alone he was grateful. 

The cab pulled up outside the bar they’d arranged to meet at, Oliver climbing out, stuffing a handful of notes in the driver’s hand. He contemplated lingering outside, a chance to gather his thoughts, pull himself together and compose himself. The cold weather had other ideas though, forcing him to take shelter inside and rip it off like a band aid.

Oliver’s eyes fell on Connor immediately, the other man sat alone at a table towards the back of the bar, nursing a drink, seemingly alone, although Oliver assumed his friends weren’t far away. He grinned widely as his eyes locked with Oliver, beckoning him over enthusiastically. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Oliver muttered, pushing his way towards Connor’s table with a sigh. 

“Ollie!” Connor grinned, pushing himself to his feet, a gentle swagger giving away the fact this clearly wasn’t his first drink tonight. “I thought you were standing us up.” 

He turned back to the table, Oliver taking the chance to fully take in the sight of the other man. Jeans clung to Connor’s legs, moulding the shape of his ass perfectly. An all too familiar loose fitting white t-shirt underneath a leather jacket. He swallowed hard. If only Connor realised just what he was doing to him.

“I got you a drink.” Connor announced, presenting the glass to Oliver proudly. “Makers Manhattan” He blushed, as if embarrassed that he’d remembered.

“Thanks.” Oliver mumbled gratefully, taking the glass. Their hands brushed together, a chill running immediately up Oliver’s spine at the slightest contact. Their eyes met, a silence falling, as if suddenly they were the only two people in the world. 

“Is this a private meeting, or can anyone join in?” A male voice piped up, breaking the moment. Oliver spun around, a male and female returning from the bar, each holding a fresh drink. The man in question received a sharp thwack to the arm from the unimpressed woman beside him. Connor’s head snapped around, a blush creeping across his cheeks as he signaled for Oliver to take a seat.

“Sorry.” He muttered, shuffling himself back into his chair. “Oliver, this is Asher.” He waved his hand in the direction of the man who grinned manically in response, holding out a hand, which Oliver shook. “This is Michaela.” The slim, pretty woman knocked Asher’s hand away quickly taking it’s place with a wide grin. “I apologise in advance for anything embarrassing that either of them say, but both of them get an extraordinary amount of pleasure from making me squirm.” Connor pouted sarcastically.

“Well Connor’s told us so much about you we’re naturally intrigued.” Michaela smirked, “Connor doesn’t make friends so you really must be someone really special.” She teased, eyes fixed on Connor.

“See what I have to put up with?” Connor muttered under his breath.

“You love us.” Michaela shot back with a knowing grin, taking a sip of wine. “So, Oliver.” She smiled, her eyes glowing with an inquisitive determination. “How exactly did you and Connor meet?” Oliver felt his cheeks burn red, straight in at the deep end.

“You know how we met, Michaela.” Connor hissed through gritted teeth, leaning forwards. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m just asking questions!” Michaela smiled innocently, a sparkle of mischief in his eye. 

“What I wanna know...” Asher butted in, scooting in close to the table, his face full of a childlike intrigue. “Is Connor even worth that much?” He whispered. “I mean, I get it, Walsh is hot. He’s not a 10 but he’s a solid 8, right?” He looked around the table, seemingly perplexed that agreement wasn’t forthcoming.

“Look who’s talking.” Connor huffed, taking a long glug of beer, his face looking like he needed it. Asher pouted. 

“Dude, you know I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if I.. y’know.” He raised his eyebrows and Oliver couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “But $650?” He looked around the table to the sea of mildly amused faces.

“Well, thanks for your support Asher.” Connor groaned, already looking like he was regretting his decision to suggest this meeting. 

“Actually the company is priceless.” Oliver offered with a quick shrug of the shoulders, all three faces turning to stare at him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is great too, but... it’s worth it just to not spend another night, sitting alone in my apartment, wondering where it all went wrong.” He explained. 

Connor exchanged looks with his friends, before flashing a grateful smile in Oliver’s direction. 

“So how did you guys meet?” Oliver asked, trying not to let people linger too long on what he’d just said.

“College.” Connor mumbled, taking another sip of his drink. “Undergrad English Lit.” He grinned. “I graduated top of the class.” He smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. Michaela snorted into her drink. 

“Only because you blew the professor right before finals.” She pouted. “Y’know what though, it’s fine. I’m happy coming second knowing I earned every mark on my final the old fashioned way.” She drawled, a pointed stare in Connor’s direction. 

“I did so much more than blow him.” Connor smirked. “I worked so hard for that A.” He grinned with a teasing wink before pausing. “Well. He got the A, I just got the D.” Michaela recoiled slightly with a shake of her head as Connor chuckled victoriously. 

“You’re disgusting and deluded,” she muttered, her eyes rolling with exasperation, although her face suggested she’d had this argument many times before. “Oliver, you deserve better than him.” She pouted, a sly glint to her eyes. He noticed Connor still, his face turning into a glare, signalling covertly for Michaela to cut it out. Oliver frowned, but shook it off as nothing. 

“I think it’s sweet though...” Oliver offered, taking another sip from his drink. “That you guys have stuck together.” He reiterated, his mind wandering back to his own college days. He’d had friends, acquaintances, but none that he really bonded with deeply. When graduation came and went they all drifted out of his life just as casually as they’d drifted into it. “It’s nice that you support him”

Michaela’s scowl softened, her lips pulling into a gentle smile, crossing her arms and leaning into the conversation. 

“Well, Connor might be an asshole, but deep down, he’s a good person.” She admitted quietly. “His bark is worse than his bite.” She paused. “Besides, he was sleeping with everyone in sight anyway. He might as well get paid while he’s doing it.” She smirked. The grounds of their relationship felt all too clear to Oliver already. Bitchy and contentious yet playful and loving. Oliver had a feeling he was going to like Michaela.

“Can we maybe discuss something other than my sex life?” Connor muttered, downing the last of his drink. “None of this is really making me out as great friendship material.” 

“You’re good for a loan?” Asher retorted.

“You’re the only one that asks for them.” Connor tutted, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “I’m getting another one, same again?” He asked, picking up his empty glass, glancing around the table to a succession of nods. Oliver watched as he made his way across the bar, unable to resist stealing a sly glance at Connor’s denim clad ass.

“I’m kind of glad it’s just the two of you.” Oliver sighed, waiting until Connor was out of earshot. “I had visions of loads of people and I’m not exactly good at socialising.” He mumbled with a self deprecating chuckle. “How many more people are there to meet?” He asked. 

Asher and Michaela exchanged a look. A mutual smirk. Asher leant closer.

“This is the party O-Man.” He whispered. “We weren’t joking. It’s just three wise men.” He paused, glancing back at Michaela again. “Well, and woman.” He added quickly. 

“What Asher’s trying to say...” Michaela interjected, a solemn look on her face, “Is Connor doesn’t have many friends.” She sighed, tapping her fingernails on the tabletop. “He finds it hard to make them, and even harder to keep them, so the fact he was the one to suggest all this...” She paused, glancing over to Connor at the bar. “You must be really special. That’s all.” 

Oliver felt his heart thump inside his chest, racing from the implication, trying not to get too caught up in the suggestion. 

“How do you mean?” He mumbled. He wasn’t special, he was just boring, plain old Oliver. Michaela raised her eyebrows, leaning back with a coy giggle. 

“Like you don’t already know.” She grinned, looking up with an innocent smile as Connor approached, struggling to manage four glasses in his hands. He placed them down, beer sloshing onto the table top, a suspicious frown creeping across his lips. 

“Oh god, what did I miss?”

* * *

Oliver had insisted he didn’t need a chaperone. Sure it was late and there were no cabs about, but Oliver had walked home across town plenty of times before and he was no less capable of doing it again. 

But Connor had insisted, and Oliver didn’t want to pass up on the chance to spend time together. Just the two of them. A chance to pry slightly deeper into what Michaela had said. 

“Your friends are nice.” Oliver smiled, pushing his hands into his pockets as they turned the corner onto his street. There was a chill in the air causing both of them to quicken their pace as they passed under the streetlights. The other man rolled his eyes with a shake of the head. 

“My friends can be jackasses.” He groaned, falling into step beside Oliver. “I’m so sorry about them. They just... don’t now when to shut up.” He muttered. “They mean well.” He croaked, waving a hand. Oliver shook his head with a smile. 

“It’s fine!” He chuckled. “I enjoyed myself.” He pressed his lips together. “Besides I think It’s cute. They clearly care about you.” He admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a blush creeping across his cheeks as they came to a stop outside his building. A silence fell between them, both waiting for the other to speak first. “Do you want to come in?” Oliver finally croaked. He smiled hopefully, not quite wanting the night to be over just yet. “I have a bottle of Jack and I’m told my couch is comfy as hell if you...”

Lips cut him off, Connor closing the gap in a heartbeat, kissing him gently, a hand reaching up to gently caress Oliver’s cheek. Quick and chaste, the younger man pulled back almost as quickly as he’d moved in, his fingertips still lingering against Oliver’s skin. 

“Sorry...” He mumbled quickly, pulling his hand away. Oliver reached out and grabbed it in his own with a smile.

“Why are you sorry?” He whispered, 

“Because I lied.” Connor muttered, looking down at his feet, raking fingers through his hair, a strangled groan escaped as he pulled his hand from Oliver’s. “Jesus, I’m not good at this.” He whispered. His eyes met Oliver’s, a flash of anguish apparent amongst the cocktail of emotions Connor seemed to be going through. Oliver stepped closer, inserting himself into Connor’s personal space. 

“Why don’t you start with being honest?” He whispered, breath ghosting against Connor’s cheek. The other man smiled slowly, softly wetting his lips. 

“I don’t want to be friends.” He mumbled, low and leading. He reached out, his fingertips grasping softly at Oliver’s hipbone, pulling him in even closer. “I want to be so much more.” He sighed.

Oliver leant in, catching Connor’s lips between his own. A gentle yet probing kiss, Connor ran his tongue across Oliver’s bottom lip, looking for something more, two men lost in each other on the sidewalk as the chilly night air swirled around them. A shiver ran up Oliver’s spine and he pulled back slowly, not really wanting to break the contact. 

He hooked his fingers through Connor’s, palms pressing together, grinning broadly in triumph. This wasn’t a dream anymore. It was no longer a fantasy. It was real and happening and it felt so good. 

“Let’s take this inside.” Oliver whispered, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his lips, tugging Connor’s hand and dragging him quickly inside the apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely feedback! I'm so happy people are reading and enjoying it and I love hearing what everyone thinks so keep it coming! xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this one gets dark. Sorry guys :(

_Connor smiled down at his phone, reading and rereading the text on the screen repeatedly. So simple yet the mere sentiment filled his heart with warmth._

_**Have a good day. Miss you xx** _

_He tapped out a quick response before pushing his phone into the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. Safe and sound until later. He pulled himself up off the bed, checking himself out in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, trying desperately to make something happen with it. It needed cutting, or so Oliver had teased him many times over the past three weeks._

_Spending time with Oliver was becoming a more a more regular occurrence, but taking it slowly was having its benefits. He was enjoying not rushing. No pressure, no expectations, just two people enjoying where life was naturally taking them._

_He was enjoying getting to know the other man, every day bringing something new and exciting, sometimes surprising, yet every new fact just served to make Connor fall just a little bit deeper for the other man._

_He felt bad. He knew Oliver wasn’t all together comfortable with him still working, but he had no choice until he had a viable alternative, and nothing could bring him the money this job made him. He wanted to be better though. He wanted to be better for Oliver._

_They weren’t “boyfriends” as such. Connor felt far too out of his depth to use those sort of terms just yet. Boyfriends suggested something more. Something sacred and committed. Sure, he wanted to get there, but right now, they were dating, pure and simple._

_The buzzer rang throughout the apartment, Connor letting out a groan. He’d considered ringing in sick, another chance to spend a night in with Oliver, curled up on the sofa binge watching boxsets and drinking cheap wine. Annalise was growing suspicious though. He’d called in sick three times in the last fortnight and he was sure she wasn’t buying his excuses each time._

_He straightened his t-shirt in the mirror, giving his hair one last ruffle as he padded towards the front door. Tonight he was meeting a new client, which always left him feeling slightly anxious._

_He picked up the entry phone. “Hey, third floor, come straight up.” He smiled into the handset, pressing the door lock to let the guy in. Annalise had sent him a text giving him a heads up on what to expect. His name was Rob. Middle aged, heavyset, quiet but keen. Connor lingered on the other side of the door, waiting for the inevitable knock._

_When it came, Connor peered through the peephole, slightly surprised by the guy on the other side. Tall and muscular, he was nothing special, but nothing to complain about either. Connor had definitely had worse looking clients. He pulled the door back._

_“Hey, I’m Connor, you must be Rob?” He smiled cheerfully, just part of the routine. The guy nodded quickly, stepping in the apartment as Connor closed the door behind them. “I take it Annalise laid out the ground rules?” He asked, by this point it was like a script._

_Rob nodded, reaching inside his jacket pocket and pulling out a brown paper envelope stuffed with cash, thrusting it hastily in Connor’s hands. “It’s all there.” He muttered, pulling his jacket off and throwing it carelessly over the back of the couch. Connor nodded, leafing through anyway, you could never be sure with some people._

_“So, do you want to come through?” Connor asked, nodding in the direction of the open door to the bedroom. This guy didn’t strike him as nervous, just unusually tense. He lead Rob through, hiding the money away in the top drawer until later. “So how do you want to do this?” He asked, turning back to the other man lingering slightly in the doorway, arms folded as he looked Connor up and down._

_Rob unfolded his arms, stalking towards Connor quickly. He grasped the younger man’s wrist tightly, pulling him close and pressing his lips against Connor’s in a coarse kiss. The taste of beer and cigarettes hung heavy in his mouth, a surefire sign of dutch courage._

_Rob wasn’t playing around, and Connor knew it was best to go with the flow, allowing the other man to barrel him back towards the bed, taking charge completely and totally, clambering astride, the full force of him on top of Connor._

_His lips moved to Connor’s neck, sucking gently on the soft skin of his collarbone, surprisingly silent, face buried into Connor’s neck, hands coursing along his arms, pressing them both down into the mattress, a twinge of pain as the heel of his palm pressed into Connor’s bicep._

_Connor struggled slightly against the restraint, not uncomfortable, just surprised by the dominance. He wasn’t afraid to play at being submissive but he usually liked some kind of warning. Rob continued, rutting wildly against Connor. He pulled back, ripping his top over his head, his eyes finally meeting Connor’s, an intent lust firing behind his eyes. He grabbed at Connor’s belt, stripping his trousers off, Connor kicking them away across the room._

_Connor swallowed, trying desperately to get his head focused on the task in hand, instead unable to shake thoughts of Oliver. His mind drifting to thoughts of the other man, probably home alone, how much he’d love to be there with him right now. How deep down he wished this was Oliver astride him rather than yet another faceless stranger._

_But this was work, and he needed to stay professional, for now at least. Maybe it was time. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to do this and hold down a relationship. Maybe it was a conversation that needed to be had. Then again, maybe this was just a bad client and god knows he’d had plenty of those up until now._

_Rob rolled into the empty space besides Connor, staring at the younger man expectantly._

_“Want you to blow me.” He mumbled, his voice gruff and demanding, signalling for Connor to take the reins. He smirked, dropping down to his knees, eyes wide and suggestive, making sure to play his part as convincingly as possible._

_He crawled forwards, wrapping his fingers around Rob’s belt buckle, unfastening slowly and dipping his hand into his boxers. He gently wrapped his fingers around the other man’s cock, pulling it out from within the confines of the fabric._

_Connor lowered his head, flicking his tongue out gently, catching the tip, eliciting an obscene moan the second he made contact. He gripped the shaft, jerking back and forth as he sunk his lips over the head of the other man’s length._

_Everyone had a talent. Some could sing or dance, others were skilled in more educational fields, an eye for figures, a way with words, or an artistic flair, but Connor prided himself on his ability to make any man putty with the skill of his tongue alone._

_Rob writhed beneath him, head thrown back in pleasure, lips slack, regular moans escaping as his fingers knotted into Connor’s hair, forcing his face further down his shaft, encouraging him to continue, Connor all too willing to comply._

_Suddenly, Rob pushed him backwards, Connor stumbling slightly, struggling to keep his balance. The other man reached down, grabbing Connor’s arm, pulling him up roughly before pushing him down on the bed, straddling his thighs and hooking a finger in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down, Connor lifting his hips to allow for easy access._

_The whole encounter was feeling more and more passionless by the second. A cold and emotionless aura taking hold. No kissing, barely any touching, no connection. Connor could handle that, he was programmed not to expect it, yet he felt himself aching for just a little bit of intimacy._

_Rob ground his cock against Connor’s ass quickly, a frantic edge taking over his actions as a hand pushed firmly against the younger man’s back, holding him against the mattress, exerting his authority._

_He heard a hand dip into the bowl of condoms he kept on the side, accompanied by the shake of a lube bottle, cold liquid dribbling between his ass cheeks as fingers probed clumsily at the sensitive ring of muscle, making Connor wince as the other guy moved too hard and too fast._

_He bit his bottom lip, so hard he thought he might draw blood. He knew better than to argue back, tolerating the discomfort, focusing on what was to come._

_“Fuck me.” He whispered, desperate to get this over with. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, glancing back over his shoulder, the other man fumbling with a condom, cheeks red, lips parted. Connor gripped onto the duvet, preparing himself for the next move, teeth biting into his lip._

_He let out a groan, exaggerated for effect, as Rob’s cock slid against the cleft of his ass, the other man kneading the soft flesh, smearing lube further around his puckered entrance._

_He pushed inside, slightly too fast, not entirely gently, eliciting a yelp that Connor tried to mask as a moan, not that Rob seemed to notice either way, too caught up in the moment, in his own bubble of enjoyment. Connor was nothing more than a prop, just a vessel for the other man’s enjoyment._

_“Faster.” Connor whined, pushing back against each thrust, trying desperately to coax the inevitable orgasm sooner rather than later. Rob reached round, pulling Connor’s wrists from beneath him, sending his face into the mattress, restraining his hands behind him, using them for leverage with each thrust. His grip was tight, too tight, his thumb digging into the vein down the center of his wrist, pins and needles beginning to tingle in his hand as the blood supply struggled to reach its destination._

_“Fuck, you feel good.” Rob gasped, his thrusts becoming more intense, slower yet harder, Connor could tell he was close, his own erection rubbing uncomfortably in the knot of his semi removed boxers, caught around his thighs._

_“You like that?” Connor muttered, gritting his teeth, not sure how much longer he could stay in this position, his neck starting to ache, hands feeling numb._

_“Such a good slut.” Rob’s voice growled as his hips slammed home, two, three more times before finally the strangled moan of climax filled the room, the other man slumping forwards, releasing his grip on Connor’s hands not a moment too soon._

_Connor scrambled forwards slightly, needing some distance between himself and the other man. Sore, tired and unsatisfied. It was nights like this that he began to wonder just what he’d gotten himself into. Right now, more than ever, he wanted Oliver._

* * *

_Connor sat awkwardly on the end of the bed, watching as Rob slowly pulled his clothes back on, shoulders hunched, full of tension as he faced the wall, still unable to really look Connor in the face. He put it down to nerves, or embarrassment. Shame._

_“You have my number, right?” Connor asked, grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it back over his head. “If you want to do this again, just give me a call.”_

_Rob stilled, back still turned, straightening up, still as tense as ever._

_“I’m not gay…” He hissed, voice raspy and unsure. Suddenly everything made sense. Connor licked his lips with a chuckle, pulling himself to his feet, grabbing a hoodie from the chair in the corner of the room._

_“I hate to break it to you, but what we just did… That was pretty gay.” He smirked, unable to help himself. He’d had clients like this before and he always found himself unable to stop from teasing just a little bit._

_“I’m not fucking gay!” Rob snapped, voice raised, full of anger as he spun around, face red and furious. Connor flinched slightly, recoiling away from his outburst. No more than he could handle. Clients with guilt after the fact were no new thing._

_“Right… Whatever you say.” Connor shrugged, still instinctively smirking. “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” He mumbled, making for the door. Rob reached out, wrapping his hand around Connor’s wrist tightly, painfully, yanking him towards him._

_“I’ll fucking wipe that smirk off your face, you filthy little whore.” He snapped, face full of venom, mood changing in an instant. Connor didn’t even have time to process what was happening, as the fist made contact with his cheek, sending him stumbling backwards, pain coursing through his face immediately._

_Connor was briefly stunned, frozen in shock, clutching his face as the other man marched viciously towards him. He grasped a handful of Connor’s hair, pulling him up, fist making a second connection to his face._

_“Fuck you.” Connor gasped, flailing wildly with his arm, punching into Rob’s stomach. The man let go, doubling over as Connor crumpled to the floor._

_“You fucking fag.” He wheezed, catching his breath, staring down menacingly as Connor tried to regroup on the floor, not expecting the foot that connected sharply with his torso, knocking the wind out of him, sending him sprawling backwards, kicks continuing somewhat relentlessly. “Don’t fucking disrespect me.” He snapped, crouching down close, voice dripping with unbridled rage. “Know your place.” He hissed, lashing out with one last punch before straightening himself up and making quickly to the door._

_Connor lay helpless on the floor, the metallic taste of blood on his lips as he stared blankly after the other man, in no rush to pull himself up. He blinked as a tear escaped, trickling gently down his cheek, stinging as it seeped into an open wound. He sat up, slowly, pain searing through his side, gripping his ribs. He was going to be bruised tomorrow. He stumbled to his feet, catching sight of himself in the bedroom mirror and letting out a long groan._

_His face was a mess, cheek already swelling and turning a deep shade of purple. Not exactly an attractive look. He grabbed his phone from the top drawer and stuffed it in his pocket. He needed a drink, and luckily he knew exactly where he could get one._


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver let out a groan as the sound of knocking filled his apartment. He pried an eye open, fumbling around on his nightstand for his phone, trying to find the time. His fingers wrapped around the handset, checking the screen, squinting as it lit up the bedroom. 

11:20pm

He’d barely been in bed for half an hour, contemplating leaving whoever was on the other side to come back at a more suitable time. 

The phone suddenly vibrated in his hands, Connor’s face filling the screen, grinning back at him in the darkness. Oliver answered cautiously, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Let me in, Ollie.” Connor mumbled down the line. “C’mon, I walked here and it’s freezing outside.” He whined, still knocking on the door obnoxiously. Oliver groaned again, pulling himself out of bed. If this was Connor’s idea of romance then they clearly had a few things they needed to talk about. 

He padded over to the door, pulling a hoody over his head. He unbolted the door and turned the key in the lock, finally pulling the door back, not quite prepared for the sight on the other side.

“Hey, Ollie.” Connor smiled weakly as he stood in the doorway, the hallway light shining down on him like some kind of omen from above. 

The skin surrounding his left eye was red and mottled, tell tale signs of a bruise forming, as well as a cut to the bridge of his nose, blood dry and crusty around the wound. His left eye was puffy, half closed as it began to swell.

He stepped into the apartment, ignoring Oliver’s awestruck expression, making a beeline for the kitchen. The light of the apartment only served to highlight further injuries. A cut to his lip, the tell tale smear of blood under his nostrils. Oliver let the front door swing closed, following behind the man now rummaging though his fridge. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He finally stuttered, leaning on the kitchen counter. Connor spun around, now brandishing a beer bottle, popping the cap nonchalently and taking a swig, wincing slightly as the bottle touched his lips. 

“Oh this?” He smirked slightly signalling to his face. “You should see the other guy.” He shrugged, walking past Oliver and dropping down on the couch, kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“I’m serious Connor,” Oliver hissed, marching forwards, taking the spot next to Connor, bringing a hand gently to the other man’s face. “Look at the state of you!” He whispered, the younger man flinching as Oliver’s fingertips brushed over his bruised skin. 

“Fuck, Ollie.” He whined, jerking his head away. “I’m fine, just forget about it.” He huffed, taking another pull from the beer bottle.

“How can I just forget about it, Connor? Jesus Christ, you need to see a doctor or go to a hospital.” He paused. “You need to call the police!” He urged. Connor rolled his eyes with a groan. 

“For fuck’s sake, Oliver, for the last time, I’m FINE.” He insisted. “What use will the Police do anyway?” He snapped. “I’m a whore.” He spat. “And I’m gay. Those assholes would probably just give him a medal of honour. They’re not exactly here for people like me.” He swallowed. “Besides, just wait until Annalise gets her guy on him.” He chuckled. 

Oliver pulled himself up, padding slowly back over to his kitchen. He pulled the freezer open, fishing out the first bag he could find, gently wrapping a dishcloth around it. He gathered a collection of other supplies before heading back towards where Connor sat, fully engrossed in his beer.

“I still think you should go to the ER,” Oliver mumbled, holding out the makeshift ice pack. Connor took it, holding it gently to his cheek bone, wincing as the cold made contact with his skin. He gave a sideways glance to Oliver. 

“No health insurance.” He muttered with a sigh, slowly seeming to mellow, his cocky smirk replaced by a remorseful stare. “Annalise is going to lose her mind.” He groaned, dropping his head back against the couch, taking another sip of beer as Oliver tended gently to his wounds, dabbing lightly at the blood.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Oliver tutted, dabbing at his lip, Connor letting out a hiss of pain that he chose to ignore. “She sent some crazed psycho to your house and you’re worried that she’ll be mad at you?” He sat back, fumbling for a new piece of tissue. “She should be grovelling to you.” He shrugged, starting on the cut to Connor’s forehead. 

“She should, but she won’t.” He mumbled. “Bad people slip through the net sometimes. It’s just… one of those things.” He pushed Oliver’s hand away, pulling himself to his feet. “Can I use your shower?” He asked, already heading in the direction of the bathroom, not really waiting for approval. 

“You’ll wash away the evidence!” Oliver argued, scrambling to his feet, chasing after the younger man. Connor stopped, spinning around, Oliver nearly crashing into him. 

“I’m not going to the police, Ollie, so that’s not going to be a problem.” He smiled, widely and falsely, pushing his half empty beer bottle into the other man’s hands. “I just want to clean up and forget about it.” He mumbled. “So can we just do that?” 

Oliver sighed, his heart dropping. Nothing about this was normal, yet Connor was acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.. He looked down at his hands, taking a quick swig of the beer. 

“Whatever you say…” He croaked, holding his hands up in defeat.

* * *

Oliver sat, staring ahead blankly at the bathroom door from his position at the foot of the bed. Waiting, wondering, worrying. He wasn’t naive, he was all too aware of just what Connor was trying to do. Building up a wall, deflecting any help, shutting out any concern, trying to insist that he was fine. Oliver knew it was a lie. Nothing but a facade.

He felt bad. He’d never considered just how much danger could be associated with Connor’s job. Handing himself over so completely to a stream of nameless, faceless men, not all with the same good intentions he’d had. Surrendering partial control in exchange for cash. His stomach dropped as various scenarios played through his mind, creating stories worse than the truth, yet Oliver found himself unable to shake the bad feeling. 

The shower finally stopped in the next room, followed by the unmistakable sounds of Connor clambering out, fumbling with the towel rack as he had done countless times before. The door opened, Connor jumping at the sight of the other man staring back at him before his lips pulled into a confident grin, towel slung around his hips as he strode forward. 

He wrapped a hand loosely around Oliver’s jaw, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Why do you look so worried, Ollie?” He smirked, pulling back, grabbing his boxers from where he’d discarded them in a heap. He paused, straightening up. “Should I even bother doing this?” He chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively, stepping close. “Don’t worry, I’ll still put out.” He winked. Oliver jerked away uncomfortably. 

“No, Connor, Jesus.” He muttered, concern building at just how laid back Connor seemed to be about all of this. His demeanor was unnerving, like the self destruct button had been triggered and there was now no stopping him. “How can you be okay about all of this?!” Connor pulled back with a shake of the head. 

“Ollie…” He whined. “We agreed we were forgetting about this.” He groaned, walking away and grabbing his jeans, stepping into them and pulling them up over his ass. 

“No.” Oliver insisted, taking a deep breath. “Not until you promise me he didn’t…” He tailed off, not quite sure how to word his concerns. “Did he take advantage of you?” He stuttered awkwardly. Connor stilled, an anguished expression flickering across his face, as if he wasn’t too sure of the answer himself.

“No.” He finally croaked, somewhat lacking in conviction. “He got what he paid for so just… drop it." He signalled to his face. "This is just an occupational hazard.” 

Oliver stared at him, incensed.

“Stop trying to normalise this!” He yelped. “Nothing about this is normal, Connor.” He breathed, eyes fixed with piercing rage. “You’re better than this. You don’t need to put up with all this, you’re worth so much more.”

Connor stared back for a beat before rolling his eyes with a sardonic chuckle. 

“I wondered how long it would be before you started this.” He mumbled, pulling his top over his head and mussing his hair with his hand. “Why don’t you just be honest with me about what this is about.”

Oliver frowned, confused at the sudden accusation. Confused by Connor’s entire reaction. 

“None of this bothered you when it was you handing over the money to fuck me into the mattress?” Connor spat. “You were fine with me selling my body when it was you who was benefiting from it.”

“I didn’t attack you.” Oliver argued back, guilt washing over him. 

“Does it bother you that they’re getting more sex than you are?” Connor snarled, stepping closer, bringing his body into Oliver’s personal space. “Just admit you’re jealous.” He purred in his ear. “You want me to quit this so you can have me for yourself.” 

“I’m fucking worried about you, Connor.” Oliver hissed, the other man holding up a hand.

“Or you want to cleanse your soul for what we did and feel like you somehow saved me?” He snapped. “That’s how it works right? You get me to quit and we live happily ever after. Me, forever in your debt because you picked me up when I was down and gave me a chance. Showed me the error of my ways and saved me from some sad tragic life of misery?” He yelled, growing more frustrated by the second. 

“Or, I’m worried about you because some stranger fucking attacked you and you don’t seem to be that bothered about it!” Oliver yelled back, past caring if his neighbours could hear. Connor smirked with a shake of his head. 

“I’m a slut, Oliver. I sleep with guys for money and I’m good at it, okay?” He pouted. “I don’t need your pity or your concern or your fucking charity because I’m a big boy and I can look after myself.” He breathed, pushing past Oliver, pacing for the door. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this?” Oliver trembled, truly taken aback by how things had taken such a turn. He spun around watching as Connor fumbled with the door handle, then stopped, still. “All I want to do is help you.” He whispered feebly. “I care about you.” He croaked, sniffing back a sob. 

“I don’t care about you.” Connor whispered back blankly, pulling the door back and disappearing again into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry :(


	8. Chapter 8

Oliver stared at his phone, waiting, willing it to ring. Just something. Anything to let him know where Connor was.

It was over, he was sure of that, and he was pretty sure he was stupid for caring, but the way Connor had exploded, so unexpectedly and out of left field, made him concerned.

It was three days since Connor had walked out, and the fear that he’d done something stupid hung heavy over him. His texts were unanswered, his calls not returned, and Oliver was running out of options. Maybe he needed to bite the bullet and go over, rip it off like a band aid and meet him face to face, but he was scared. Scared that he’d make it worse and end up scaring him off again.

It was beginning to dawn on him just how little he knew about Connor. He’d met his friends, but he had no numbers, no way of contacting them, no way of ringing around to ask if this was normal or he was stupid for being worried. Maybe Connor did this a lot. Maybe he just needed some space, or a chance to calm down. Hopefully he was getting help.

Maybe Connor had been telling truth though. Maybe everything between them had been nothing but a lie. Just two people swept up in a tide and this was them, crashing and breaking.

He struggled to keep the worst case scenario out of his head, visions of Connor in distress, or trouble or maybe something far worse.

He pulled a tie from his wardrobe, threading it loosely around his neck as he stared blankly into the mirror. He’d already called in sick the previous day and quite frankly he needed the distraction. Something to take his mind off of everything.

He heard the vibration before the ring filled the room, lunging immediately for his phone as the screen lit up. An unknown number. He slid the screen, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He mumbled cautiously.

He let out a soft groan as he heard the tape click on, a robotic voice echoing down the line offering some kind of ridiculous offer he couldn’t refuse.

Fucking marketing calls.

He slammed the phone down in a rage, hands grabbing at his tie, trying desperately to make some kind of knot. He struggled, growling in frustration as the knot fell through and tie came loose in his hands.

“Fucks sake.” He hissed, resisting the urge to punch the reflection of his own face.

His phone rang again. He stared at it, another unknown number. He wasn’t getting burnt twice. He fumbled with his tie, trying to block the incessant noise out, yet still it persisted. He snatched the phone up, bringing it to his ear again.

“Hello!” He hissed angrily. “I don’t want any stupid offers or deals so… please just…”

“Mr. Hampton?” A voice interrupted, kind and concerned. Calm.

“Yes…” Oliver stuttered tentatively.

“Mr. Hampton, I’m calling from St. Christopher’s Hospital.” She explained softly. He froze, this was it. She was going to tell him the worst and he wasn’t prepared to hear it. “Your friend, Connor Walsh, has been admitted to our ER and he’s asked us to contact you.” Oliver swallowed. ‘He’s asked us…’ At least he was alive.

“Is he okay?” Oliver asked, deep down knowing the answer. If he was in hospital, there was no way it was good news.

“He’s… awake and he’s asking for you.” The nurse told him, pausing for a beat. “Between you and me, he could really do with someone right now.” Oliver stared at himself in the mirror, not quite able to place his feelings. Relief, tinged with hesitance. He wanted to lash out, be petty and retaliate, but deep down his concern won through.

“I’ll be down soon.” He sighed. Work could wait one more day.

* * *

Oliver peered through the window, Connor laid on the bed, head lolled back against the pillows. Wires connected from his chest to a variety of beeping machines. Drip attached to his wrist.

His legs were pulled towards his chest, barely in the foetal position and it looked like he was sleeping. Oliver crept towards the door, pushing it open slowly, Connor’s head turning at the noise.

His face was still a mess. Maybe even worse than it had been the night Oliver saw it. Lip split, face bruised. Dark circles framed his hazel eyes, the sparkle extinguished. His beard looked unruly, his hair greasy and unkempt, skin sallow. His lips pulled into a feeble smile.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He mumbled softly into the silence as they both stared at each other. 

“I thought you said you didn’t need saving?” Oliver finally mumbled, lingering awkwardly in the doorway. Connor smiled weakly from the bed. 

“I say a lot of things.” He whispered. “Problem is I talk a lot of shit. I thought you’d figured that bit out by now.” He winced, pulling himself up gently against the pillows. He gestured for Oliver to come in, making room on the foot of the bed. Instead, Oliver took the armchair, keeping his distance, pushing his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You look terrible.” Oliver admitted bluntly. “The nurse said you were in a bad way.” Connor chuckled to himself.

“Apparently three day benders aren’t my thing anymore.” He sighed, flopping his head to the side, bringing a hand to rub across his forehead. “With hindsight, mixing those whiskey chasers with my anti-depressants was a terrible idea.” He groaned. “I passed out while I was fucking some guy on the backseat of his car.” He told Oliver a little too graphically. “He freaked out and brought me here. Ran before anyone asked too many questions.” He let out a long sigh, looking around, before his eyes fell back on Oliver. “I feel like crap, if that makes you feel any better?” Oliver stared at him, wetting his lips gently, leaning back in the hard leather chair. 

“Does it make _you_ feel better?” He asked softly, an irritable edge to his voice. “This is what this is all about after all, isn’t?” He snapped. “You trying to punish yourself over some kind of deep seated shame or guilt that you seem to be harboring?” Connor grit his teeth, looking down at his lap. “Which one of us is really the one trying to cleanse their soul?”

“You know nothing about me.” Connor hissed, picking at the IV tube on his arm.

“No, Connor. You’re right, I don’t, because you keep holding me at arms length.” Oliver tutted, his stare harsh and pointed. He folded his arms across his chest. “I want to care about you, Connor. I want to help you with whatever it is that you’re going through right now, but I need you to let me.” He hissed.

“Do you not think I’ve had enough of being prodded and probed today?” Connor snapped. “I didn’t ask you here to pick up round two.”

“Then why did you ask me here?” Oliver yelled, his voice reverberating off the white hospital walls. 

Connor stared ahead, his resolve slowly crumbling as Oliver stared him down. He pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tight. 

“I should go.” Oliver mumbled, rising to his feet. “We’re not getting anywhere.” He made towards the door, heart thumping inside his chest. He didn’t want to walk away but he was beginning to feel like he had no choice. 

“Oliver, wait.” Connor whispered urgently. The older man spun around, surprised by the change in Connor’s demeanour. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a tortured grimace. “I’m sorry.” He whispered letting out a long sigh. Oliver paused in the doorway.

“For what?” 

Connor pulled at the thread of the blanket covering his legs, avoiding eye contact yet again.

“For being a fuck up.” He shrugged, his voice breaking gently as he raked a hand through his hair. He looked up, genuine remorse flashing in his eyes. “For taking this out on you.” He swallowed hard. “Just… please don’t leave, Oliver.” 

He gestured towards the chair, eyes begging the older man to stay.

“They’re running a bunch of tests and… I don’t really want to be left on my own to think about it.” He trembled, and finally the fear was evident. The entire cocky facade decimated in one move. Oliver nodded slowly, making his way back to the chair. He pulled his jacket off, folding it over the arm.

“So let’s talk?” Oliver suggested, sitting forwards on the chair. “Tell me what I need to know.” Connor managed a resigned nod, meek and unsure. He didn’t want it but he had no choice. 

“I’m not good at fixing my problems.” He sighed, rolling his head backwards, staring up at the sterile white ceiling. “I cause so many problems. For myself, and for other people and I just keep dragging more and more people into my mess. I just stick a band aid over it and move on, hoping it’ll go away and I won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Is that what I was?” Oliver asked cautiously, not sure he was going to like the answer. Connor lowered his head slowly, bringing himself to look at Oliver, a sad smile played across his lips and he shook his head. 

“No.” He whispered. “You weren’t meant to be at least.” His teeth gripped his bottom lip, caught in a moment. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “You made me feel normal and I haven’t felt like that for a long time.” The mask was truly slipping and Oliver couldn’t help but feel pure sympathy for the man sitting in front of him.

“I thought you were happy?” Oliver groaned, folding his arms back across himself. Connor chuckled, a low, wry laughter.

“Yeah, I guess I’m getting better at making it convincing.” He shrugged, raking at his hair again. There was a long pause, Oliver hanging off his every breath. “When I was 15, I started seeing this guy.” He closed his eyes again with a soft shake of the head. “He was older than me, much older, but I was besotted with him. I literally worshipped the ground he walked on. I did everything he told me to, even lied to protect him.” Connor fidgeted against the propped up pillows. “I thought it was real. That me and him were going to last forever, but I was just a dumb kid.” He ran his hands across the crumpled hospital gown he was wearing. “My mum found out and he… didn’t want to know anymore. Told me it was just sex because that’s all I was good for and I was an idiot if I thought it was anything more.” He looked up.

“Oh, Connor.” Oliver breathed, moving to the edge of the chair. He placed a hand gently on the edge of the bed. 

“Thing is, I believed it. I was so infatuated with him I just believed what he told me.” The younger man muttered. “I never stopped believing it, so all of this… I felt validated.” He shrugged, “Like I was finally doing something worthwhile. For those few hours every night, I felt needed and that felt good.” He paused. “I’ve spent so long just trying to convince myself that I’m doing something good. Just pretending that I’m making the most of things, but I know it’s all bullshit.” He took a deep breath. “I want to do better, Ollie, I just don’t know how.” 

Oliver stood up, perching on the edge of the bed, facing Connor. The younger man looked up, eyes wide and watery, swimming with uncertainty. Oliver grasped his hand tightly in his, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. 

“I think you do know how.” He whispered. “You just need to let people help you.” He added with a smile. Connor cocked his head to the side, a hint of a smirk returning. 

“People like you?” Oliver shrugged. 

“I guess that’s up to you.” He swallowed. “But I’m here, if you want me.” He tailed off. “Sometimes the hardest thing is to take a step back and admit you need help.”

Connor went to answer, the moment interrupted as the door pushed open, a doctor bustling inside carrying a clipboard. She looked Oliver up and down.

“Mr. Walsh, I have the results of your tests.” She fussed, moving closer, still glaring somewhat at Oliver. “I don’t know if you want some privacy?” Connor followed her eyeline, his grip tightening on Oliver’s hand, as if he could tell bad news was incoming. 

“It’s fine, anything you say to me, you can say in front of Oliver.” He stuttered. She looked between them with a nod and a heavy sigh, rereading over the notes. 

“You have chlamydia, Mr. Walsh.” She explained, leaning on the side bars of the bed. “Obviously we can’t tell you when you caught the infection, so we would recommend you getting in contact with any sexual partners you’ve had who may be at risk as they may want to get themselves tested too.” She forced out a weak smile. “We’ll put you on a course of antibiotics and hopefully that will clear it up in no time. Other than that, everything else came back clear. Any questions?” Connor glanced up at Oliver before shaking his head. The doctor smiled. “Right then, I’ll chase up a prescription for you, and we’ll look about getting you discharged.”

“Thanks doctor.” Connor mumbled. His voice low and resigned as she left the two of them alone again. Connor dropped Oliver’s hand, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I thought you were safe?” Oliver sighed, rubbing his forehead, sinking back down into the chair. 

“I kind of lost track the last few days.” Connor croaked. “You can relax, Ollie. I had a clean test two weeks ago, so you’re in the clear.” Oliver snorted.

“Wow, who would’ve thought there’d be an upside to you having sex with everyone but me?” He spluttered, shaking his head. It was meant to be a joke, but the words hung heavy in the air, the goodwill suddenly fractured.

The silence lingered, Connor staring straight ahead. He brought his knees to his chest again and wrapped his arms around them, hugging himself into a tight ball. 

“I’m going to go stay with my mum.” Connor finally sighed. “Get away from everything and clear my head.” He paused. “Maybe if I’m lucky I can go back to my childhood, scrub out the whole mess and start again?” Oliver chuckled. 

“Well, I wouldn’t count on that happening.” He smiled “But it sounds like a good place to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for all the lovely comments. They really do mean a lot. :)


	9. Chapter 9

_Six Months Later..._

Oliver stared at his reflection in the mirror, smoothing down his shirt and folding back the sleeves neatly. 

He was putting on weight.

It wasn’t massively noticeable, but he could feel it. His shirt pulled slightly tighter than usual across his stomach and his cheeks were definitely rounder. He needed to stop the takeaways.

Work was to blame. He’d thrown himself back into it, making a real effort to seem committed. Any extra hours, offering to help out on any big projects, just anything that would distract him from the loneliness of spending every night at home.

He’d thought about Connor plenty of times. They’d stayed in contact, initially at least, but as weeks had dragged into months, their contact had waned and Oliver often found himself wondering where the other man had gone. He’d reached out, he’d invited Connor to parties, dinners, he’d even offered to come visit, but with every declined invitation it started to look like he was fighting a losing battle.

Letting go hadn’t been easy, but there came a point when he felt he had no other choice. He couldn’t keep pining for someone who clearly was in a different place to him.

And then Max had happened, and Oliver finally had a reason to move on. It was still new. Still in the early days of not labelling themselves and taking it slow. Stupid dates that ended in chaste kisses, giggles and lots of smiles. Something fun and fresh and hopeful.

He checked his watch, a gentle thrum of excitement in his chest. Oliver had lost track of date numbers, the truth was he’d enjoyed them all so much that they just melted into one, but he could sense in himself he was close to making it official.

He frowned as the sound of knocking filled the apartment, immediately rechecking his watch, shaking it and bringing it to his ear. He grabbed his phone, double checking the display. It was definitely still 6:30pm, and he definitely still had another 90 minutes before he was due to meet Max.

He padded over to the door cautiously, peering suspiciously through the peep hole. The distorted sight of flowers met him from the other side of the lens and Oliver chuckled to himself. If this was his idea of buttering him up, it just might work. He pulled the door back excitedly with a wide grin.

The bouquet that greeted him was exquisite. A beautiful mixture of white, blue and purple, a beautiful white lily sitting pride of place. They were perfect.

Then the bouquet lowered and Oliver was sure his heart missed several beats.

“Surprise!”

A surge of emotions flooded through Oliver’s body. Confusion, shock, awe… not to mention a small dose of lust for the man stood facing him, sheepishly holding flowers.

Connor looked good, although anything was an improvement on the last time they’d seen each other. His skin was clear, maybe even a slight hint of a tan. His beard was impeccably trimmed, hair no longer wild and slightly greasy, instead it had been cut short and neat. His clothes hung slightly loosely on his body, his shirt pulling just nicely in the right places underneath his jacket. He’d definitely lost a little bit of weight but it looked good on him.

“Connor…” Was all Oliver could stutter, caught like a rabbit in headlights. He stood back, suddenly jumping back into action. “Come in.” He insisted, beckoning the younger man inside, bustling around and tidying away some piles of papers. Connor stood awkwardly, holding out the flowers.

“These are for you.” He mumbled, immediately stuffing his hands back in his pockets as Oliver took them with a grateful smile. “They’re to say thank you, and sorry for missing your birthday.” He explained meekly. “I wanted to come it just… wasn’t a good time still.” He murmured, staring at the couch, not sure if he should make himself at home or not. 

“I was beginning to think you maybe weren’t going to come back?” Oliver told him, running water into the sink and letting the flowers sit. Connor chuckled.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider it.” He shrugged. An awkward silence descended between the two of them. Oliver standing awkwardly in the kitchen as Connor lingered next to the couch. Oliver sighed, walking forwards, wrapping his arms around the younger man, hugging him close, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

“How are you?” He asked, voice muffled by Connor’s shoulder, the younger man hugging him back equally as enthusiastically, his shoulders relaxing as the tension seemed to melt away. 

“Better.” Connor whispered, pulling apart. “I think I might finally have got my head someway straight.” He paused. “It took me long enough.” He smirked wryly.

“You took the time you needed. That’s a good thing.” He shrugged, rising to his feet. “Do you want a drink or something? I have coffee or maybe something stronger?” He offered, walking over to the kitchen. Connor chuckled.

“Water is fine.” He smiled. “I’m trying to keep my vices to a minimum.” Oliver pulled the refrigerator open, grabbing two water bottles, holding one out to Connor as he sank back beside him.

“I never had you down as a clean living type.” He smirked. “So, is this a self inflicted change or…?” He tailed off, letting the suggestion hang in the air. Connor grinned, popping the cap to his water and taking a long gulp.

“My therapist suggested it.” He explained. “Says I should talk about my problems rather than bury them in other things. I don’t think I really realised that that was what I was doing.” He paused, his grin taking on an extra glint. “I’ve been celibate for six months.” He admitted with a bashful smile. Oliver’s eyes widened, having to stop himself from spluttering water across the room.

“You’re kidding?” Oliver grinned widely as Connor shook his head proudly. “That is a sentence I never thought I’d hear from you.”

“Yeah, it’s been… strange.” He mumbled, taking another sip of water. “Kinda getting used to it though? I’ve saved a fortune on lube and condoms.” His cheeks dimpled as he giggled and Oliver was taken by how much happier he looked in general.

“Well I like that you’re looking for the positives.” Oliver sat back on the couch. “Although doesn’t that raise some conflicts of interest?”

Connor nodded, a resigned sigh escaping, picking at the label on his water bottle.

“That’s why I came back.” He paused, glancing at Oliver. “Well, one of the reasons.” He added quickly, a tinge of pink in the apples of his cheeks. “I sent her a message just before I left and blamed her for everything. Told her it was all her fault so I wanted to clear the air.” He began to pick at a small rip near the knee of his jeans, pulling constantly at a thread.

“Did she apologise?” Oliver asked. Connor nodded silently.

“We apologised to each other.”He whispered. “It’s not her fault. Not really.” His eyes stared ahead into nothing, his foot tapping repeatedly against the floor in a frantic rhythm. “I told her I’m not coming back.” He swallowed, glancing at Oliver. “I’ve got to move on. Start fresh, and I can’t do that working for her.”

“How did she take that?” Oliver asked with a smile. Maybe Connor really was going to make this work. His attitude and determination was such a contrast to the previous time they’d spoken. Connor smirked.

“She offered me more money. Told me none of it would happen again, but I don’t want to take that risk anymore.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to go back to that place I was in.” Oliver grinned, pulling himself to his feet.

“Well, you look like you’re on the right path!” He told him enthusiastically. “I’m happy for you.” Connor scrambled to his feet as well, following Oliver over to the kitchen, still clutching the water bottle tightly in his hand.

“I didn’t just come back to apologise to Annalise though.” He croaked. Oliver grabbed the flowers from the sink, laying them out on the counter. He rummaged through the drawers for a pair of scissors, never able to find stuff when he wanted it. “I came to apologise to you.” Oliver stopped dead, looking up with a frown.

“You don’t need to apologise to me Connor, you did what you had to do. I understand that.” He sighed, turning and grabbing a vase from his cupboard. His mother had bought it for him many years ago as a house warming present. ‘You never know when someone might bring you flowers’, she’d told him with a smile, a definite suggestion in her expression. He’d laughed at her presumptuousness.

“Yeah, but I kinda bailed on you, and you’ve been nothing but supportive to me.” Connor pouted. “When you stopped calling…” He tailed off bashfully, struggling to find the words. “That’s when I knew I needed to get better, because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you too.”

Oliver began slowly snipping the ends off each flower stem.

“You could have always called, Connor, or sent a text. I just wanted to give you space. I didn’t want you to feel like I was checking up on you.”

“I didn’t think that you were.” Connor smiled softly, leaning on the counter top. “I…” He paused, rolling his bottle absent mindedly across the work surface. “I didn’t want to let you down again, so I thought it was best to just… go away until I had my shit sorted out.” He shrugged. Oliver rolled his eyes, placing the scissors down on the counter.

“Look, Connor. Whatever you needed to do is fine by me. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He sighed. “I’m just happy that you’re in a good place right now.” He picked up a handful of stems, dropping them into the vase and arranging them neatly, not that he really had any idea what he was doing. He was sure he would know when he saw it. Connor straightened up stepping closer, their arms brushing together, Oliver unable to ignore the shiver running up his spine.

“I couldn’t have done this without you though.” He whispered “You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself and that means a lot.” He reached out, running a hand lightly up Oliver’s arm, tugging him gently to face him. “You’re so special, Ollie.” His lips pulled into a gentle smile, still rubbing the older man’s arm lightly.

Oliver swallowed. He needed to say, needed to tell Connor, but he’d not seen him this relaxed and hopeful in a long time. He’d never seen him this happy and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin it. He’d never really given up on Connor, and now here he was, standing in front of him again. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to.

“Connor…” He mumbled quietly.

“I just want to make you feel the same way you make me feel.” He sighed.

Then it happened, and Oliver made no attempt to stop it. Connor moved in close, lips brushing softly, fingers tilting Oliver’s chin gently. It was slow and needy, and Oliver couldn’t resist melting into his touch. He kissed back, sucking lightly on Connor’s bottom lip, hand cupping the back of the younger man’s head before he realised just how wrong this was. He couldn’t lead him on like this. Oliver pulled back with a grunt, Connor’s lips chasing his.

“Connor…” He whined, “I can’t.” He stepped away, putting distance between them, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

Connor’s eyebrows knitted together, clawing at his hair.

“I…”

“I’m seeing someone.” Oliver choked out, pressing his eyes shut, unable to bring himself to look at the other man’s crestfallen expression. The silence stretched between them, tension rebuilding by the second.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Connor stuttered into the silence. “Oh god, of course you have a boyfriend, why did I presume you didn’t?” He muttered under his breath, bringing his hand to his forehead with a groan. 

“We hadn’t spoken for three months, Connor. I couldn’t wait for you anymore.” Oliver explained quickly, silently cursing how terrible his luck appeared to be. “I’m so sorry.”

Connor batted away the apology with a shake of the head. 

“You don’t need to apologise, Oliver, there’s nothing to apologise for. I just… wish you’d told me.” He paused. “At least before I kissed you and made myself look like a fucking idiot.” He mumbled with a sardonic chuckle. 

He wandered across the room, crossing his arms across himself tightly, trying desperately to hide his disappointment. His eyes darted around, avoiding all eye contact with Oliver, who wrung his hands together awkwardly, not entirely sure how to disperse the tension that had suddenly rebuilt. 

“It’s really new.” He started meekly. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I just had to do something for me for once.” He shrugged. Connor’s head shot up, his features softening. He crossed the room again, keeping a distance between them, sliding his hands deep into his pockets. 

“Look, does he make you happy?” Connor asked with a smile. A brave smile. Oliver nodded slowly. He did right now at least, although he wasn’t sure if that was purely because he was distracting him from the alternative. Connor held his hands up. “Then that’s what’s important.” He shrugged. “You deserve to be happy, Oliver.” He breathed, a moment passing between them, the air thick with unsaid words. Connor glanced down at his watch. “I should go.” He mumbled, looking Oliver up and down. “Let me guess… you have a date tonight?” 

Oliver nodded apologetically.

“How about coffee tomorrow?” Oliver suggested quickly. “We can start planning this new start?” He couldn't let Connor walk away again, not like this at least. Connor nodded, edging himself towards the door.

“Yeah.” He smiled, “Drop me a text and we’ll organise it.” He pulled the door open before pausing in the doorway, turning back to Oliver with a sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Ollie.” He whispered with a contrite grimace, before turning and letting the door click closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time jump... I tried writing Connor's recovery but I just couldn't make it work, so I'd rather leave it up to your interpretation than do a bad job of it :/   
> But again, thank you for all your comments, they mean a lot when inspiration is thin on the ground. Why is it hiatus again already? :(


	10. Chapter 10

“Cleaner?” Oliver suggested, poring closely over the job page, flicking his pen against the table. 

Connor looked up with a sarcastic pout.

“I can’t even clean my own apartment, Oliver, no one is going to pay me to clean theirs.” He snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “Besides, I want something I can work with. A career rather than just a dead end job.” Oliver rolled his eyes.

“You need money, Connor. Anything will do to get you back on your feet.” He insisted, scrolling further down the page as Connor grabbed another paper from the pile, flicking to the jobs.

“Just nothing that involves me on my knees getting fucked.” Connor tutted. “Literally or figuratively.”

“What about a TA?” Oliver shrugged. “Something meaningful, putting your education to good use, and you’ll be making a difference?” He suggested hopefully. “You could change kids lives.” He grinned enthusiastically. Connor pouted again.

“I can already see the parents pulling their kids out of school when they find out the TA used to be a hooker.” He tutted with a heavy sigh, swilling his coffee in his paper cup. 

“You don’t have to tell people.” Oliver rolled his eyes, exasperated. They were getting nowhere. Every job so far Connor had an excuse for and he was struggling to see where they could go from here.

“I don’t tell people, Oliver, people find out, trust me.” He snapped, a little too harshly. Oliver recoiled slightly, looking down at the screen as Connor let out a sigh. “Sorry.” He mumbled, leaning forwards in his chair, placing his cup back on the table, running his finger absent mindedly around the rim. “I just can’t handle the thought of teaching little Johnnie how to read whilst simultaneously knowing in the back of my mind that I fucked his dad once.” He paused, noticing Oliver’s cynical stare. “The statistical likelihood of that happening is higher than you think.” He pushed his chair back, “Same again?” He asked, nodding towards Oliver’s cup. 

He made his way to the counter paying for two more coffees, before sauntering back to the table with a heavy sigh as he plonked down in the chair.

“Maybe I should just go back to college?” He shrugged. 

“And study what exactly?” Oliver mumbled, tapping the keys on his keyboard. Connor threw his hands up exasperatedly. 

“I don’t know? Criminal Law?” He suggested, “That’s what I wanted to do before everything else got in the way.” He nibbled on his bottom lip, staring at Oliver. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” He groaned, raking his hands through his hair again, falling forwards dramatically, face first on the table. 

“I think you still need to find another job, seeing as it’s February, and the new semester doesn’t start until September.” He smiled. “Maybe you’re aiming too high?” He suggested, leaning in close. Connor tilted his head to the side with a pathetic pout.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned, straightening up as the girl from behind the counter slid two fresh coffees onto their table. He nodded gratefully taking a long gulp.

“Maybe you just need to think short term?” Oliver shrugged. “Something to tide you over while you get back on your feet and figure out exactly what you do want to do.” He suggested. “The job you take now doesn’t have to be it for life.”

He scrolled further down the page stopping triumphantly as a perfect example rolled into view.

“Look, how about bar work?” He suggested, turning his tablet around and waving it in Connor’s face. “It’s evenings which means you can use the days for other stuff.” He paused, noting Connor’s unimpressed reaction. “You’re good with people, you know how to make a drink.” He paused. “If anyone can fake it, Connor, it’s you, just go for it!” He hissed.

The younger man took the tablet, reading through the advert, the corners of his mouth bending into a smile.

“I know this guy.” He whispered, grabbing his phone from the table. “He’s an ex-client.” He tapped through his contacts before bringing the phone to his ear with a smile. “Let me see if I can call in a favour.” He chuckled.

* * *

Connor was in his element. One week in and he seemed to be settling back into the world of employment with ease.

Oliver lingered by the door, watching from a distance as the other man effortlessly made his way around the bar, laughing and joking with customers, his face lit up with a confident grin. He looked happy, and Oliver couldn’t help but feel a certain bubbling of pride in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t want to be overbearing, the last thing he wanted was for Connor to think he was checking up on him, but he wanted to be supportive and Connor had told him he should come down and ‘see him in action.’

He picked a spot at the bar, sliding onto a bar stool, waiting as Connor made his way along the bar of patrons. It was busy, and it was still early. Maybe visiting on a Friday night was a mistake.

“I thought we were meeting outside?” A voice hummed in his right ear, low and close, causing Oliver to jump. He spun around, snapped from his thoughts. Max smiled back at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, sliding into the stool beside him as he pulled his jacket from his shoulders. He flicked his dark hair from his eyes, shifting their stools closer together.

“Sorry.” Oliver muttered, wringing his hands together on the bar. “It was getting cold so I thought…” He tailed off as a smile flashed across Max’s lips.

“Babe, it’s fine.” He grinned, snaking a hand across to clasp Oliver’s. “I’m teasing.” He rummaged around in his jacket pocket, dropping his phone down on the bar whilst triumphantly producing his wallet. “What can I get you?”

“Actually I was going to ask the same question.” Both men looked up as Connor grinned back at them, arms pressing casually on the bar. He looked Max up and down, a hint of something in his eyes. Jealousy or disdain, Oliver couldn’t quite place it. “So, is this him?” He smiled broadly, maybe a little too broadly to be convincing. 

Oliver chose to ignore it. Whatever Connor’s problems were with Max, they definitely weren’t Oliver’s to sort out. He nodded slowly. 

“Connor, this is Max. Max, Connor.” He introduced, both men holding out hands and shaking firmly, the covert jostle for dominance not quite as covert as they probably hoped. Connor won, clutching Max’s hand for longer than was entirely comfortable. 

“I’ve heard all about you.” Connor hummed cordially, eyebrows raised. “You’ve definitely snagged a good one here.” He winked, nodding in Oliver’s direction. Max nodded, pursing his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m a lucky man.” He grinned back, sliding an arm loosely around Oliver’s waist as if staking his claim. Oliver nibbled on his lip with a coy roll of the eyes. 

“Okay, you two can put your penises away.” He muttered softly under his breath, swatting lightly at Max’s arm. “I will have a rum and coke, and Max will have…” He tailed off, still not quite sure what exactly his boyfriend drank. They still had things to learn about each other.

“I’ll take a Mojito.” He smiled sweetly, flashing a $20 bill at him. Connor grit his teeth and nodded, turning away to make the drinks. Oliver turned to Max slowly, eyebrows raised.

“You couldn’t have just ordered a beer?” He hissed sharply. Max held his hands up, his deep brown eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“What did I do?” He chuckled, knowing full well. “What so I’m not allowed to order a drink now?” He pouted, picking up a drinks mat and spinning it between his fingers. 

“It’s his first week and you order a notoriously difficult drink?” Oliver snapped. “Are you trying to make him hate you?”

“I think you’re over reacting.” Max sighed. “Besides, he already hates me, I have what he wants.” He mumbled with a pathetic shrug. Oliver let out a low growl, leaning closer to the other man. 

“All I want is for you and him to get along.” He whispered, his hand ghosting over Max’s. “You don’t need to mark your territory.” He smirked.

“I don’t know, I like to let everyone know you’re mine, not just him.” Max purred, his lips pecking softly on Oliver’s cheek. The older man smiled, turning his face to catch his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss. 

“Well as long as you don’t start peeing on me…” Oliver tailed off with a chuckle, Max taking the kiss deeper, grinning against his lips.

Two glasses sloshed on the counter as Connor slammed them down, the two men breaking apart quickly. 

“Don’t stop on my account?” Connor smirked, swiping the bill from Max’s hand and turning back to the cash register to punch in the prices. 

“So how have things been?” Oliver asked, trying to move the conversation on. 

“Things are good.” Connor nodded, ringing the bill up and picking the change out of the register. “It’s been busy but I’m picking it up.” He smiled, holding the change out to Max. “I think it helps that I did some of this in College so I’m not completely out of my depth. I’m just oiling the cogs.” He chuckled. 

Max glanced between Oliver and Connor before shaking his head and holding up a hand, refusing the change, signalling for Connor to keep it. Oliver smiled proudly as Connor gave a nod of gratitude. 

“And you’re enjoying yourself?” Oliver asked eagerly, sipping slowly from his drink. 

“Yes, Mum.” Connor teased with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “I’m fine, so you can stop worrying about me.” He insisted with a fond smile. 

“Excuse me…” A tall stocky man beside Oliver grunted impatiently. Connor’s head shot up, nodding apologetically to his visitors as he went to investigate the problem.

“See?” Max grinned triumphantly, sipping from his Mojito. “You can loosen the swaddling on him now. He’s a big boy on his own two feet.” He whispered pointedly. Oliver shook his head. 

“It’s not that easy.” He sighed, “You didn’t see him like I did.” He mumbled back. “Just because he has a job, doesn’t stop me worrying about him.”

“You worry too much.” Max teased, spinning his stool around, casting his eyes across the bar, looking for somewhere else to move to. The last thing he clearly wanted was to be sitting under Connor’s gaze all night. 

Oliver sighed. They spoken about this. He’d tried to explain the situation to Max as delicately as he could. How he felt guilty and somewhat responsible, and how he wanted to help. Connor was a friend. That was it, but he was beginning to fear that Max wasn’t buying it quite as much as he thought he was.

Max was a good guy. Young, fit, a firefighter, way out of Oliver’s league if he was honest, but he wanted to make it work. He wanted to move on from Connor, finally. Romantically speaking at least. He was pretty sure he and Connor were bonded in other ways now for good. 

Max nudged Oliver’s arm gently, signalling to the stocky guy, staring intensely at Connor across the bar, licking his lips and definitely not hiding the fact he was checking out the other man’s ass as he made drinks. 

“Is it always this easy for him?” He whispered, swishing his straw further around his glass, stirring up the contents. Oliver chuckled. 

“You have no idea.” He muttered under his breath, his attention piqued as well, something dark and protective curling in the pit of his stomach. Connor deserved so much more than to be looked at like that, and yet he’d look at him like that all day every day if he could. He swallowed his lust, glancing at Max to see if he’d noticed. 

The guy beside him leant on the bar, his ogling intensifying, licking his lips with a questioning frown as Connor fussed about with the optics, dispensing measures into glasses. 

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” The guy finally drawled. Connor cocked his head with a quick shake, although Oliver could see his shoulders tense. 

“I don’t think so?” He smiled, turning and placing two Long Island Iced Teas on the counter before turning away quickly to tend to the other drinks in the order. 

The man stared intently, set on figuring out how he recognised him, before clicking his fingers and slamming his fist on the bar. 

“Oh god!” He finally beamed, “I know who you are!” He went to blurt out more but stopped himself, presumably to spare his own blushes rather than Connor’s. He glanced around quickly, lowering his voice. “Last time I saw you I had you bent over, moaning into a pillow.” He murmured, followed by a soft moan as if reliving the encounter. “That was money well spent.” He purred. 

Oliver clenched his fist against the bar, wanting to butt in and say something, anything, but Connor got there first. 

“Chances are I was faking it.” His smile was fake and insincere. He slammed down the last drink so hard it sloshed across the bar. “That’ll be $25.” He hissed, holding his hand out expectantly, not in the mood to make any further conversation. 

The guy held out a fifty, snatching back as Connor went to take it from him. 

“You can keep the change if you meet me in the bathroom in 20 minutes.” The other man chuckled with a seedy grin. “I seem to remember you give amazing head.” He added with a wink, holding the money out again. 

Connor took it, staring him straight in the eye as he rang the order up in the till. He grabbed the change and thrust it straight back in the waiting man’s hand. 

“I guess you’ll just have to treasure that memory then, won’t you?” He pouted, before turning to the next customer.

The man gave a defeated shrug, chuckling to himself as he gathered his drinks together and made his way back to a table across the room. Oliver spun on his stool and made to follow, the anger and disgust washing over him in a red mist. His toe touched the floor but a hand gripped his right arm, pulling him back. He shot his head around to a disproving shake of the head from Max.

“No!” He insisted firmly.

“You heard the way he just spoke to him, Max, that’s so unfair.” Oliver argued petulantly. 

“Yeah, and Connor sorted it.” The other man tutted, lowering his voice. “It’s not your problem, Oliver, you don’t have to keep fighting his battles for him. He’s a big boy now.” 

“He still needs support.” Oliver stuttered. 

“Then support him.” Max hissed. “But right now you’re wrapping him up in cotton wool and treating him like a child.” He noticed Oliver’s dejected expression and his features softened with a sigh. “I know you mean well.” He groaned. “My god, you’re so infuriatingly kind hearted, but…” He paused, toying with the straw in his drink again. “What are you getting back from all this?” 

Oliver stared, trying to formulate a response but there wasn’t one. Max was right. 

He’d given Connor so much and yet he still didn’t have the one thing he wanted most of all from all this.

Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we have two more chapters left to go, but as always, thank you allllll for all the lovely comments :) It gives me encouragement and keeps me going!!


	11. Chapter 11

Sundays were by far the worst day of the week in Oliver’s opinion. The last day of freedom before he was forced back to the confines of work. Nothing on TV and a day of general boredom as he struggled to be in any way productive. 

Max always worked on Sundays, so seeing him was out of the question, and his family was always too far or too busy to really warrant a visit. He knew he should make more effort, but it always felt like a chore rather than a pleasure, so Oliver just chose to refrain.

He stood in the bedroom, trying to find something he could do with his day. Sure, his closets needed clearing out, and he was certain it was nearly 3 weeks since he’d actually ran a vacuum over his carpet, but right now, all he really wanted to do was just chill. Flop on the couch and watch a boxset or three. He was pretty sure he could allow himself that much at least. House work could wait.

He settled down, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he brought up Netflix, scrolling through the shows on offer. It felt like an age since he’d really had a chance to sit back and just relax.

He let out a frustrated groan as the knocking started on the door like a bolt from the blue. It was like life was set on trying him constantly, never giving him a moment to himself. He contemplated leaving it, turning down the TV and hiding away, but the knocking persisted and he began to feel almost guilty for even considering it. 

He clambered up, padding slowly over to the door with a heavy sigh, peering through the peephole quickly. The last thing he really wanted right now was visitors.

His eyes fell on the distorted sight of Connor staring back at him, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, a box in his hands.

He pulled his door back, trying to keep a poker face. Whatever was going on, he was sure he wasn’t exactly going to like it.

“You’ve never heard of travelling light?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame casually, as Connor clutched the box tighter to his chest. He noticed a few knick knacks, things he knew Connor cherished, family photos, and his treasured picture of James Baldwin. Connor let out a groan. 

“You know I don’t want to ask you this…” He whispered hoarsely. 

“But you’re going to anyway?” Oliver chuckled, folding his arms. Connor rolled his eyes 

“I haven’t been earning for six months.” He muttered. “And I’m not earning anywhere near as much as I was so my finances aren’t exactly stacking up right now…” He tailed off. “Look, I know you’ve already done more than you need to but all I’m asking is for a week on your couch.” He pleaded. “I can chip in some money, I just need somewhere to stay while I get something else sorted.” 

Oliver stood to the side, beckoning Connor inside cautiously.

“Could your landlord not have given you a weeks notice?” Oliver asked as he peered into the hallway, three more boxes waiting outside. Connor dropped his bag down on the floor next to the coffee table, straightening up. 

“He did.” He croaked. “I thought I might be able to sort it out before it got too bad.” Oliver tutted, propping the door open and grabbing the next box. 

“Jesus, Connor, you should have said something. I could have helped you.” Oliver scolded, placing the second box next to the first. Connor shook his head slowly.

“You’ve helped me enough.” He sighed. “Besides, you have your own things going on. You don’t need to keep clearing up my mess.” Oliver chuckled. 

“And yet…” He teased, a cheeky sparkle in his eyes. Connor’s expression dropped, he looked sad and apologetic and Oliver suddenly felt bad for making light of the situation. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “Besides, I could do with someone to help me out with some housework.” He shrugged. Connor smiled with a small nod, grabbing the next box from the hallway. 

“You sure Max will be okay with this?” Connor asked quickly. “I know he’s not exactly my biggest fan and I don’t want to cause any trouble with you two.” He insisted, piling his boxes together in a corner, out of the way. He wheeled a suitcase in and parked it out of the way as well. 

“You’re sleeping on the couch, Connor, and it’s my apartment, not his.” He paused, seeing uncertainty in the younger man’s eyes. “I’ll talk to him.” He shrugged. Connor nodded, looking slightly happier. “So, can I get you a drink or something?” Oliver asked, rubbing his hands together, trying to move the subject on quickly. 

“Let me make them.” Connor offered, following Oliver over to the kitchen. “It’s the least I can do.” He mumbled, pulling open cupboards and finding everything except for the supplies he was looking for. Oliver stepped forwards, pulling open the right cupboard, sliding two mugs onto the counter. 

“Let me at least give you a hand.” He chuckled. 

Connor leant back against the counter, allowing Oliver to take the lead, clearly deciding that he could get the next one, when he was a bit more familiar with the logistics of the apartment.

“Max isn’t here?” Connor asked, threading his fingers together. “I thought you two would be spending every waking moment together right now.” He grinned. 

“We’re not inseparable.” Oliver giggled, spooning coffee in each mug. “Besides, he has to work, not everyone gets to chill on a Sunday. We’re the lucky ones.” He smirked, heating the water on the stove. Connor fidgeted beside him. 

“He’s a nice guy.” He finally shrugged, his voice quiet and unsure. “I can definitely see the attraction to a guy like him.” Oliver paused, lips pulling into a grin.

“Oh god.” He groaned. “Have you and him…?” He tailed off, the implication heavy in the air. Connor’s eyebrows knitted together before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh god, no!” He shrieked, holding his hands up defensively. “Trust me, the first time I ever laid eyes on him was the other night.” He insisted firmly, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “But look at him.” He grinned. “He’s ripped, his arms look like they’re made of steel, and he’s almost so polite it’s unnerving. Jesus, he saves people’s lives for a living, who wouldn’t want a guy like that to keep them warm at night.” He chuckled. Oliver stared back at him, an awestruck expression creeping across his lips. 

“Have you been practicing that?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing with a cynical stare. “Because it was almost convincing.” He teased. “I mean, the fact I know you hate him kind of gives you away but I appreciate the sentiment.” He nudged past Connor, lifting the boiling kettle from the hob.

“I don’t hate him.” Connor muttered, walking over to the island, pressing his hands on the counter top. There was an unsureness to his voice, like he almost didn’t believe it himself. He let out a heavy sigh, tracing his fingers across the surface. “I just hope he knows how lucky he is.”

Oliver stirred both mugs slowly, letting the words hang in the air. He knew their intention. The loaded implication behind them stood out a mile and he ached to jump on it, to probe further and set his own mind at ease. Instead he chose to ignore it, laughing innocently at the seemingly innocuous comment. 

“I’m serious though, Ollie.” Connor smiled calmly, taking a long sigh and composing himself. “You deserve someone who makes you happy.” He whispered. “I’m glad you found him.” He shrugged.

Oliver wanted to scoop Connor into his arms and shower him with all the affection he was so clearly missing out on, but now didn’t feel like the right time. He spun around, pushing a mug towards Connor, gripping his own in two hands.

“We all deserve someone who makes us happy, Connor.” He smiled sympathetically, bringing his mug to his lips. 

Connor glanced back at him, a flash of something sad and contemplative in his eyes. He pushed back from the counter, carrying his mug towards the couch with a low sigh. 

“You make me happy, Ollie.” His voice mewled, with a thoughtful smile.

* * *

It had been the longest ten hours of Oliver’s life. That’s all it had been since Connor had turned up on his doorstep that morning and yet somehow it felt like it had been at least a week.

Darkness crept through the apartment, the light from the TV screen flickering across Connor’s face as he chuckled at the show on the screen, taking a quick pull from his beer bottle.

They were friends. Just friends, and the fact he had to keep reminding himself of that was playing heavily on his mind. He had Max and he knew that, but the mere sight of Connor down the other end of his sofa was doing things to him he didn’t even understand.

Maybe this was a terrible mistake. His feelings for Connor were starting to bubble up and he was beginning to doubt he was going to hold it down for much longer, especially not living in such close proximity. Oh god, he was so screwed. 

He pulled himself up, gathering take out cartons in his hands, tidying away the remnants of dinner that Connor had bought.

“Hey, I’ll help you!” Connor offered, sliding his bottle on the coffee table and fumbling around for the remote, pausing the TV as he gathered more cartons in his hands. 

“It’s fine!” Oliver insisted, dropping the contents of his arms in the trash and chasing back to Connor, scooping the containers from his hands. “Sit down, you paid for dinner.” He mumbled, making a second trip to the trashcan, slamming the lid shut. “Do you want another beer?” He called out, pulling the fridge door back and peering inside. It remained unfortunately empty, save for the pack of beer Connor had bought to accompany dinner. 

Connor looked up from the couch with a wide grin.

“I guess one more won’t hurt.” He shrugged innocently, as Oliver pulled two new bottles out, cracking the lids off of both and dropping them down on the counter top with a quiet clatter. “Y’know, you’re going to make someone an amazing husband one day, Ollie.” Connor chuckled as Oliver trudged back towards him, holding out the beer. “Although I guess you’ve already realised you had a lucky escape from me.” He winked playfully, turning his attention back to the screen.

It was a throwaway comment, a stupid joke, probably encouraged by the two beers Connor had already consumed and yet it felt like all the encouragement Oliver needed to probe deeper.

He curled his legs under himself as he settled back down on the couch, glancing along to Connor, already fully immersed in the action on screen. 

“Do you think we would have worked?” He asked bluntly, noting Connor visibly tense at the question, spluttering slightly on his beer. “If you’d come back and I hadn’t been with Max, do you think you and me would really have been able to make a go of it?” 

Connor fidgeted uneasily, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and clutching it to his lap. 

“Really?” He stuttered, “You want to have this conversation?” He pouted, somewhat sharply. 

“I’m just asking?” Oliver shrugged, perhaps buoyed by his own alcohol consumption. “You’re the one who keeps saying I had a lucky escape, I’m just asking for clarification.” He purred, almost like he was locked in the most self destructive game of Chicken, still not really sure what exactly he was going to gain from the answer. 

Connor fidgeted, pushing his hands into his pockets, eyes widening slightly as he considered the question, clearly not expecting something so blunt so soon into their foray into cohabiting.

“I don’t know?” He shrugged finally, swinging his bottle by the neck in his left hand before taking a deep swig. “Can we ever really know that?” He whispered meekly, picking at the seam of the pillow, eyes staring into his lap, not looking up to meet Oliver’s.

“Oh, come on.” He smiled calmly, inside, his heart pounded erratically against his rib cage. “You must have had a plan for when you got here.” He asked, trying to act as casual as possible.

Connor frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he twiddled his fingers together before swallowing hard. 

“I’d like to think so?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “We get on well together, the sex was always… above average.” He smirked. “Yeah, I don’t see why we couldn’t have made it work?” He slowly nodded, like he was finally convincing himself of the fact. “I mean, unless I fucked everything up, which, let’s be honest, there’s a very high chance could have happened.”

The mood relaxed and the tension seemed to drop slightly. Maybe they needed this, a chance to be frank and honest with each other. Everything laid out bare and honest, no more hiding. 

“I don’t think it’s as high a chance as you’re making out.” Oliver offered with a smile. Connor clawed awkwardly at the back of his head with a soft sigh.

“I wanted to be better for you.” He admitted finally. “I worked so hard, just trying to be half the guy I thought you deserved, trying not to be that same fuck up I’d always been in the hopes I could make everything work.” He nibbled gently on his bottom lip. “I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you.” He whispered. “I wanted us to have a future together.” He admitted sincerely, his eyeline refusing to meet Oliver, his cheeks tinging pink as he confessed everything. “I guess I just never factored in the fact that someone else might beat me to it.” He shrugged. 

Oliver stared at the younger man, his heart pounding once again.

“I had to.” He croaked. “I thought you were never going to come back, I had to move on.” He whispered quietly.

“I know!” Connor nodded. “It’s my fault, I should have rung you and spoken to you. I should have just told you the truth.” He admitted quietly. “Trust me, I’ve spent enough time beating myself up for it.” He nibbled lightly on his bottom lip. “Doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you though.” He turned his head to face Oliver with a small smile. “You deserve the world, Oliver. You’ve done everything for me, so much more than you ever needed to and you’ll never understand how grateful I am. So seeing you with someone who makes you happy, keeps you safe and knows how to treat you right… I guess that’s enough for me.” He admitted with a quick shrug, bringing his bottle back to his lips and tipping it back quickly. “Now, do you have anymore excruciatingly embarrassing questions lined up or is that it for now?” He smirked, bringing his knees up tightly to his chest and turning his attention back to the screen. 

Oliver shook his head quickly, his head swimming with questions, not feeling any closer to an answer. 

“No… that’s it.” He mumbled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I kinda hate this chapter because I couldn't quite get the tone I wanted in it, but I've spent so long lingering on it that I've kinda had to just go with it, sorry :(


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long :( Hopefully it's not a complete disappointment.

Oliver clutched his wine glass tightly between his fingers as he looked around the restaurant. Couples staring lovingly in each other’s eyes as they shared laughter and enchanted stares, fingers linked across table tops. They all looked happy and content, and Oliver couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with him that he wasn’t experiencing the exact same feelings. 

He glanced back at Max, who was staring intently at his dessert menu, scanning the page up and down like he was about to make a life or death decision, although he would still inevitably pick the banoffee pie, Oliver was sure enough of that.

He loved Max, he was perfect, understanding, an insatiable lover and yet still it felt like something was missing from all of this. Something he couldn’t put his finger on, whatever the key to satisfaction was, they clearly still weren’t quite in possession of it.

“Oliver?” Max’s voice cut through his thoughts, the other man waving a hand in front of his face with a smile. “You okay?” He mumbled, “You were miles away!” He chuckled, peering around the room, lest he was missing something obvious. 

“Sorry…” Oliver groaned, picking up the dessert menu in front of him and running his eyes up and down the page. Nothing jumped out at him, but then again he still wasn’t really feeling anything tonight. Maybe he was getting sick. There had been something going around work so the chances he’d caught it too were high. 

Max folded his arms on the table, leaning in closer.

“You sure you’re okay?” He frowned. “You’ve been acting distant all evening.” He whispered, reaching across the table, his fingers curling around Oliver’s wrist lightly. The older man looked up, an apologetic grimace plastered across his face. 

“I’m sorry.” He groaned. “It’s just been… stressful recently.” He mumbled, although it was all an excuse. In fact if he was honest it had been nothing but the exact opposite. Connor was proving to be a delightful house guest. Thoughtful and understanding, he made dinner, bought groceries, and his cleanliness was much better than Oliver had really given him credit for. His apartment was looking more organised than ever and he actually enjoyed having someone to share his binge watching habits with. Max smirked, nodding to himself.

“Well, I can understand that. When exactly do you get your couch back?” He asked, bringing his wine glass to his lips and taking a deep sip. Oliver shook his head. 

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, swallowing down the protective anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “Actually, I meant us.” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Max spluttered, struggling to keep the wine in his mouth as his eyebrows knitted into a frown. He looked genuinely blindsided.

“What about us?” He asked confusion spreading across his face. “Have I done something wrong?” He whispered, looking concerned, and kind of upset and suddenly Oliver felt bad about all of this. 

“No!” He hissed, glancing around the room to check they weren’t making a scene, the last thing he wanted was to draw attention. “No, none of this is you.” He whispered, although again, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Max’s job took up a lot of time and a lot of unsociable hours and Oliver could already see it could cause a roadblock in the future. He looked up to Max’s wide eyed stare. “Do you think we have a future?” He asked bluntly with a frantic sigh. 

Max’s face contorted further, although the hesitation was all too obvious, the silence hanging, lingering above their table for a beat too long. 

“Yes?” He finally muttered. “Yeah, of course we do?” He added quickly with a shrug, although Oliver could already see the telltale creep of a blush on his cheeks. A blush of guilt, like he knew he was lying, too ashamed to admit the real answer. Oliver cocked an eyebrow, folding his arms on the table, leaning in too. 

“You sure about that?” He pressed, taking a sip of his own wine, deep down he could already see how this was going to pan out, but they needed to have this conversation. “Where do you see us in a years time?” He asked, running his tongue across his bottom lip. 

Max hesitated, a deer in headlights expression spreading across his face.

“I… I don’t know, Oliver, I haven’t thought about it?” He stuttered finally. “Why do we have to plan that far ahead? Why can’t we just go along for the ride and see where we end up?” He mumbled, reaching out across the table, Oliver snatching his hand away quickly. 

“You must have some idea?” He countered. “Are we serious or are we just having fun?” Oliver stared expectantly. “It’s not a trick question.” He muttered.

Max fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the room again.

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I thought we were just taking it slowly.” Max mumbled, glancing down at the table. “Can’t we be both?” He smiled awkwardly, a hopeful tinge to his voice. He swallowed hard. “What is it that you want, Ollie?” He asked sincerely.

Oliver closed his eyes leaning back in his chair, letting out a long sigh.

“I don’t know anymore.” He whispered with a resigned groan.

Silence fell between the two of them, neither of them entirely sure how best to address the growing awkwardness that was arising between them. Oliver had never had good timing, and he was beginning to regret choosing this moment to start this conversation. Maybe he should have done it in private, not when they were in public, surrounded by prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah, you do.” Max finally stuttered, Oliver’s eyes snapping onto his immediately. 

“I do?”

Max ran a hand gently through his hair with a troubled sigh. 

“You want Connor.” He whispered bluntly. 

“What?” Oliver spluttered, although he knew Max was on the money. He just thought he’d been better at hiding it. “No… I”

“Yes, you do, Oliver.” Max sighed. “Ever since Connor came back he’s been your priority, and that’s fine, I get that you’re friends and you want to help him, but…” He tailed off. “I see the way you look at him, Oliver. The way you smile when you spend time with him, you’ve never looked at me like that.” He shrugged. 

Oliver shook his head.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” Max insisted with a hiss. “I love you, Oliver.” He mumbled. “I want us to work, but I can’t compete with Connor. That’s why I can’t see where our future is going to be.” 

Oliver nibbled on his bottom lip, folding his arm across his body protectively.

“Do you want us to have a future?” He asked cautiously, not sure of his own answer to the same question. 

“Of course I do.” Max nodded. “But I’m not sure that we can while you’re still so obviously hung up on someone else.”

“So you want me to choose?” Oliver mumbled, knowing this had always been on the cards. 

Max cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. 

“I don’t want to tell you that you can’t be friends with Connor.” He took another long sip from his wine glass. “I don’t want to be that guy. I just want to feel like I’m the priority for once.” Max swallowed hard. “Look, there’s been three people in this relationship, and the entire time it’s been clear to me that you like one of us more than the other.”

“No…” Oliver feebly interjected. Max held up a hand to stop him. 

“Yes, Oliver, yes it is.” He insisted, letting out a strangled groan. “Fuck, I hate this.” He growled under his breath. 

“So you’re breaking up with me?” Oliver frowned, feeling unsuitably content with the way the evening was progressing, although deep down he knew this should be the other way around. 

“Has anything I’ve said tonight been in anyway wrong?” Max asked. 

Oliver shook his head slowly and sadly. He didn’t want it to end like this. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Max snorted quietly, shaking his head slowly.

“What for?” He mumbled, draining his wine glass. 

“For this?” Oliver shrugged, hands clasped in his lap, face solemn and apologetic. None of this was Max’s fault, this was just… circumstances, and Oliver wished they could be completely different right now. He wished he didn’t still love Connor, he wished he’d never dragged Max into all of this, but most of all, he wished he’d had the guts to speak up sooner. 

Max reached across the table, placing a hand lightly on top of Oliver’s once more, his thumb rubbing gently across the back of the older man’s hand. He looked serene considering the tone of the conversation. Resigned to his fate. 

“I love you, Oliver.” He whispered. “But I care about you too much to force you to stay.” He pushed Oliver’s hand away. “You need to do what’s going to make you happy, and I think you know what that is.” He mumbled with a sad smile. 

Oliver pushed his chair back slowly, rising to his feet. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and stepped forwards, pressing a feather light kiss to the other man’s cheek.

“Thank you.” He croaked, stepping away, for once not looking back.

* * *

Oliver pushed his key wearily in the lock, stepping into the dimly lit apartment with a sigh. He felt drained and yet strangely like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as the door slammed shut behind him. 

Connor looked up from the couch, the light from his phone screen casting across his face as he sat cross legged, hair mussed up, black t-shirt hanging from his shoulders, sweatpants loose on his hips. 

“Hey?!” He frowned in confusion, clicking on his phone screen. “I wasn’t expecting you back, I thought you’d be out doing the horizontal tango at Max’s all night?” He chuckled, not looking up from his phone. “I’m gonna have to cancel my gangbang.” He joked with an exaggerated sigh.

“Yeah, there was a change of plan.” Oliver sighed, shucking his jacket from his shoulders and hanging it on the back of a kitchen stool. “Don’t change your plans on my account, I’ll just be in my room, crying myself to sleep over what a huge fuck up I’ve become.”

Connor finally looked up, clocking Oliver’s expression for the first time, his smirk disappeared, replaced by a look of concern, finally dropping his phone down and sitting forwards as Oliver leant cautiously against the kitchen counter. 

“Dude, you okay?” He frowned, anguish etched on his face as he tried desperately to read the expression of the other man. “What happened?” Oliver swallowed, raking a hand through his hair, trying to bide his time, not trusting himself not to dive in feet first. 

“Me and Max broke up.” He sighed, walking deeper into the kitchen, yanking the fridge door open and grabbing two beer bottles from inside, popping the caps off. He walked slowly towards Connor, offering one bottle while taking a deep swig from the other. 

“Shit.” Connor gasped, eyebrows raised. “But, why?” He choked, cradling the bottle in his hand before pushing it coyly onto the coffee table. “I thought you two were in a good place.” He paused. “Do I need to kick his ass?” He pouted. 

Oliver spluttered around the neck of the beer bottle, shaking his head. 

“No!” He smirked. “It was a mutual decision.” He shrugged, falling back against the cushions. “There’s no hard feelings.” Connor frowned, turning towards the older man. 

“Then why the hell did you end it? Something must have happened?” He paused, “Or am I that out of practice in relationships?” He stopped again, noticing the quirk at the side of Oliver’s lips. “Don’t answer that.” He snapped. 

“It was my fault.” Oliver muttered, tipping his bottle back again, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, ignoring the fact Connor looked like he was ready to turn in for the night. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Connor asked, pushing his hands in his pockets and curling his feet underneath himself, leaving his beer on the coffee table, untouched and unsipped.

Oliver turned to him, a smile playing on his lips. Connor was good at playing dumb. 

“Like you don’t know.” He chuckled softly. Connor’s expression changed, an uncertainty flickering across his features, his eyes urging Oliver to reveal more, confirm his suspicions.

“You’re gonna have to at least give me a clue, Ollie.” He pouted, growing more evidently frustrated by the lack of information, cautious to jump to any conclusion. 

“I need to do what’s going to make me happy.” Oliver whispered, blowing across the neck of his bottle, the air whistling as the opening hovered just below his chin, staring straight ahead into space. 

The words hung in the air, Oliver heard Connor swallow beside him, pondering the words, contemplating his next step, stuck between acting or reacting. 

“And what’s going to make you happy, Ollie?” He asked softly, his voice a mere purr. 

Oliver stared at Connor, the younger man’s hazel eyes piercing straight back through his. He knew, there was no doubt he’d picked up the clues and the next step seemed a matter of due course, although neither seemed to want to be the first to initiate it. 

Oliver leant in slowly, Connor mirroring the move to meet him half way. Their lips brushed together softly, the contact instantly magnetic, drawing both in further still. Connor’s hand clasped Oliver’s jaw, pulling him in deeper, tongue pushing past the older man’s lips, seeking out Oliver’s, hungry and desperate.

Oliver pushed Connor back, swinging his right leg over the younger man’s thighs, pushing him back against the couch, straddling his lap in a commanding style as they kissed, over six months worth of frustration flowing out, need and want taking over and descending into pure lust. 

“Wait…” Connor groaned, breaking apart, pulling backwards, Oliver’s lips briefly chasing, mourning the loss of contact with a whimper. 

“What’s up?” Oliver hissed, wanting nothing more than to move this on. Connor’s cheeks were flushed already and he fidgeted uncomfortably, a burgeoning erection already straining in his pants. 

“I’m out of practice so just… go gentle.” He mumbled bashfully, his hands snaking round to cup Oliver’s ass, kneading the round globes of flesh through the older man’s chinos. 

“We can go whatever pace you want.” Oliver mumbled back against the younger man’s lips, clutching at his cheeks. Connor fidgeted, gripping Oliver’s ass and pushing himself to his feet, lifting him with him. Oliver let out a squeal, dissolving into a chuckle as they stumbled towards the bed, Oliver’s legs locking behind Connor’s back, arms wrapping instinctively around the other man’s neck as they struggled to keep their balance, lips pressed together as they kissed frenetically.

“Wait, wait…” Connor paused again, tearing his lips away, Oliver chasing after them with frustration. His legs knocked into the base of Oliver’s divan, sending them toppling onto the mattress in a mess of limbs, Oliver’s body covering Connor’s. 

“What?!” He hissed frustratedly. Oliver had waited long enough for this, so damn long and this was just beginning to wind him up. 

“You did mean me, right?” Connor muttered, his lips breaking into a grin as Oliver slapped him playfully on his arm, gathering himself together astride the younger man’s thighs. 

“You’re an idiot.” He smiled, fingertips scrabbling with the hem of Connor’s t-shirt, tugging it upwards, stretching it awkwardly as he fought to remove it from the other man’s body. They undressed each other clumsily, each garment seemingly getting stuck in some awkward fashion, impeding their progress as they struggled to untangle themselves with growing impatience. 

When they were both down to nothing more than boxers, Oliver sat back, drinking in the sight of Connor beneath him, his chest pounding with anticipation. He reached out his index finger, trailing it down the center of the younger man’s chest with a featherlight touch. Connor’s eyes locked with Oliver’s as he swallowed visibly, lips parting softly as his breathing deepened.

“Do you wanna…” He started, ready to relinquish control, but Connor grabbed his wrist, bringing the older man’s finger to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad. He shook his head.

“Want you to show me what it feels like when it means something.” He whispered, pressing Oliver’s hand to his chest so he could feel the intense thrum of his heartbeat. 

Oliver never expected that evening to come with such an immense feeling of responsibility and yet the added expectation only made him crave it more. 

He leant back down, pressing his lips lustfully to Connor’s, his hand snaking down and creeping beneath the fabric of the other man’s pants, wrapping loosely around his shaft and pulling his length out from the waistband, running back and forth slowly as they kissed, his own erection beginning to feel confined by his own briefs. 

Connor gasped at his touch, arching his back from the bed as Oliver stroked him gently, pressing forwards again to capture the younger man’s lips in a forceful kiss, sucking softly on his lower lip, eliciting a moan as Connor’s hands gripped his jaw, holding him close, forcing their kiss deeper, longer, more intense. 

Oliver reached between them, dipping into his own pants, pushing them down clumsily to free himself from the cheap greying jersey. He wrapped his fingers around his own length, tugging it free, grinding gently against Connor’s. He widened his grip, taking both of them in his grasp, Connor bucking involuntarily into the older man’s fist, gasping at the friction, driven by need. 

“Fuck, Oliver.” He hissed with a sharp intake of breath. “I need you.” He whispered, fingers scrabbling to pull him closer, left hand clawing his shoulder, right hand pulling at the small of his back.

Oliver crawled across the younger man, yanking the bedside cabinet drawer open. He dipped inside, clumsily throwing a lube bottle and condom packet down on the bed before climbing back astride Connor’s waiting body. 

“I want you so bad.” Oliver moaned, planting his lips on the younger man’s collar bone, no longer afraid to say the words out loud. It was no longer a secret, just a pure fact, out in the open. “Wanna make you feel so good.” He whispered softly, his lips marking a treasure trail down towards the younger man’s crotch. 

“Fucking do it.” Connor hissed, bucking his hips again, knotting his fingers in Oliver’s hair, guiding his head back towards his own, needing to look into his eyes to believe this was even happening, still not sure he wasn’t in the middle of some insane, wishful dream. He fully expected to wake up hard and unsatisfied, drooling on the couch at any moment. It wouldn’t be the first time, that’s for sure.

Oliver tugged on the younger man’s pants, freeing Connor completely of them before chucking them over his shoulder in a frantic haste. He rocked back on his heels, staring at the man before him, taking in the entire sight, his heartbeat ringing in his ears as he panted for breath, taking stock of the situation, calming himself, not wanting to get too carried away in the tide of lust. He wanted this to mean something, to be gentle and heartfelt, he wanted it to be something different to what they’d had before. 

Connor propped up on his elbows, cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of pink, eyes searching Oliver’s for an explanation.

“You changed your mind?” He chuckled meekly, his eyes signalling a genuine fear. He pulled his legs up, shuffling backwards up the bed, covering himself as Oliver snapped back to reality, crawling after him. 

“No!” He sighed, “God, no! I was just… thinking?” He shrugged, crowding in closer, wrapping a hand around each of Connor’s thighs, pulling his legs apart and his body closer towards him again, settling between his ankles. “I was thinking of the best way to make this last.” He smirked, reaching for the bottle of lube and squirting a generous amount in the palm of his hand. “I mean, you’ve been waiting for this for so long, the last thing I want is for it to be a let down.” He purred, trailing his index finger lightly across Connor’s perineum before circling a finger around his tight hole, eyes fixed on the younger man’s the entire time. 

“Fuck.” Connor hissed, bucking his hips at the touch but pressing back against it, trying to coax Oliver along, needing to feel something after so long. A finger pressed inside, slowly followed by another, curling inside him preparing him for more. Connor ground down on the intrusion, fingers clawing at the bedsheets, clenching them in his fist as he rolled his head in pure ecstasy. 

Oliver worked quickly and sloppily, too excited to prolong the foreplay any longer than he needed to. He wanted to feel Connor around him, lose himself completely in the moment. He wanted everything he’d been craving for so long. 

He twisted his fingers once more, sliding them in and out gently, trying to read Connor’s expressions, not wanting to jump in too fast. He wanted this to be as close to perfect as possible right now. 

Finally Connor’s fingers wrapped around his arm, gripping tightly. 

“Just fuck me, Ollie.” He rasped, grabbing for the condom on the mattress and tossing it in Oliver’s direction. 

“You never used to be this vocal before…” Oliver smirked as he fumbled with the condom, the foil slid between his still quite slippery fingertips as he struggled to tear the packaging. 

“I was never this desperate before.” Connor shot back, taking the packet from Oliver’s hands and tearing it open with ease. A smirk spread across his face as he settled back against the pillows, spreading his legs suggestively, wrapping a hand loosely around his own shaft, pumping slowly as he watched Oliver struggle to roll the condom on.

Oliver batted Connor’s hand away as he crawled above him, smiling coyly as their faces came into line. This was it, and suddenly it felt so much more daunting than anything he’d experienced before. He pressed a gentle kiss to Connor’s lips, soft and lingering as he lined himself up, heart thumping with anticipation. 

Connor gasped softly as Oliver pushed inside, squirming slightly at the intrusion. 

“You okay?” Oliver whispered, his eyes searching Connor’s for hesitation or regret, was he doing this wrong? Too much? Connor nodded, biting down on his lip with a wince. 

“Just go slow.” He mumbled, curling his left hand around the back of Oliver’s neck, bringing their lips back together, his right hand snaking down and resting on Oliver’s naked ass, steadying him as he became re accustomed to the sensation.

Their kisses progressed, no longer a series of small, soft kisses so much as one long continuous stream of contact, barely separating. Connor’s grasp on Oliver’s ass tightened and he took that as a sign to continue, slowly thrusting his hips as Connor’s back arched below him, lips never parting. 

It was slow and soft, everything Oliver had longed for the moment to be as they lost themselves in each other, embracing the moment, taking their time and exploring each other’s bodies properly for once. 

Everything felt so starkly different from before, no longer just a seedy business transaction, every kiss loaded with meaning and affection, it felt genuine, and Oliver thought his heart might beat through the walls of his chest as he stared into the eyes of the man below him.

“I love you.” Oliver whispered, the sentiment crashing over him in an uncontrollable wave. Connor stared back at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights and Oliver suddenly panicked that he’d crossed the line. Maybe he’d said too much too fast. He swallowed, ready to pretend it hadn’t happened, try and cover the fact he’d ever said it. He thrust again, dropping his head, not wanting to look at Connor’s reaction any longer than he had to. 

Connor’s fingers curled around Oliver’s jaw, lifting his face to meet him again as his lips pulled into a coy smile, an obvious mix of nerves and excitement.

“Love you too.” He panted softly, eyes swimming with sincerity as he wrapped his legs tightly around Oliver’s ass, locking him in place, holding them close as their bodies moved together in the dim light from the bedside lamp, room filling with the echoes of content moans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been SO long since I've written smut so it's been a struggle, sorry it's not amazing.   
> There's ONE more chapter left to go :)


End file.
